


Parallax

by imaginationem



Series: Heaven Will Wait [1]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU Fix-it, Avengers ReWrite, Banner/Barton broship, Barton needs more love, Canon, F/M, Multi, What Canon?, the hulk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:31:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationem/pseuds/imaginationem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barton was sure he'd misheard Coulson. There was no way, no way in hell. Natasha Romanoff was not compromised. There had to be an explanation.<br/>AU: Avenger's rewrite - Loki brainwashes Natasha instead of Clint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this has been done or not but oh well! I was never really happy with the amount of Hawkeye in the Avengers, his role was so small. So it got me thinking the other day. What if it was the other way around? And so this story was born. Updates will be on a weekly basis, every Thursday! 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think!

**Parallax**

 

~~~

 

**_Budapest._ **

_Seven years previous . . ._   


 

The suitcase sat on the table, seemingly redundant to the room. Nearby, hovering at the window, the owner of the suitcase stared through the glass into the busy streets below. There was a deep frown on his face; his arms were folded across his chest, the muscles twitching beneath his skin. Like a coiled spring he sat, ready to move into action at a moment's notice. 

He turned away from the window, running a hand through his dark hair. He wasn't certain that the black colour suited him but the mission required him to be completely unrecognisable to any but those who knew of the job. The man approached the suitcase and opened it, revealing the folded bow that lay nestled in its fabrics, the quiver beside it.

The man reached in and removed the bow, seated himself in a nearby armchair and set about checking the weapon for any nicks or faults. The weapon had to be working in perfect condition, he would accept no less. He doubted he would have much of a chance to get a second go at his target. This job had to be done quickly and correctly, the  _first_ time. 

His mobile vibrated against his thigh and he reached up to his ear, activating the hands free bug that sat inside his ear. 

"Yo," he said.

" _Report_."

"I've settled in some lodgings, heart of the city so it's not too obvious and I plan to go out and get hammered tonight." 

" _Hilarious Agent Barton,_ " the male on the other line deadpanned.

"We are going to have a serious conversation about your sense of humour when I get back, Coulson," Barton sighed. "Relax man, this isn't my first party."

Phil Coulson huffed irritably. " _After that conversation we need to talk about your professionalism,"_ he said. _"You need to take this job seriously, or we'll be bringing you home in a body bag._ "

"Coulson - stop. I got this."

" _You better. Fury's got another three jobs already lined up for when you get back._ "

"Well, if I kick the bucket give them to Ward. The kid may be a rookie but he has balls," Barton laughed. "Later, Coulson," he said, hanging up before the older agent had a chance to respond. 

He liked Coulson but the man seriously needed to relax himself before he started losing his hair. Barton stood up from the chair, laid down the bow and stretched like a cat. He sighed in satisfaction as the muscles in his back began to unwind themselves. It had been a long flight here, so a nap was in order before he went out to work tonight. 

 

~~~

 

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Base._ **

**_Present Day . . ._ **

 

Agent Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D and resident super-spy (Stark's words, not his), stalked through the silver hallways, a frown on his chiselled features. Coulson's words had left him bereft and very concerned, if one of the best men he had was uncertain about what was happening then there was definitely cause to be concerned, if not worried. 

"Talk to me doctor," he barked, as he entered the lab. 

Erik Selvig, their resident astro-physicist and new S.H.I.E.L.D asset looked up from his monitor screen and scurried over; offering his hand which Fury shook briefly. 

"Director," he greeted. "We're not quite sure what's going on but the Tesseract . . . she's acting up."

"What does that mean?"

"She's behaving," Selvig said simply. "We tried shutting it all down, but she's a power source. Turn the power off; she'll turn it back on."

"We've prepared for this doctor," Fury said sharply. "Harnessing energy from space."

"Yes, yes, yes," Selvig hurried on. "But my calculations are far from complete; I can't work with this kind of gamma radiation interfering - low levels, mind you, not yet harmful."

Fury raised his eyebrow. " _That_ can be harmful."

Selvig ignored the comment and kept babbling on about some scientific nonsense that Fury didn't quite understand. Finally, completely fed up, he raised his hand to forestall whatever Selvig was saying. 

"Where is Agent Romanoff?" he asked. 

"The Widow?" Selvig asked, clearly uncomfortable. He paced away, towards the computers. "In the shadows somewhere."

Fury exhaled, bringing his walkie talkie to his lips. "Romanoff. Report!" he barked. 

She came slinking out of the shadows, gliding in almost predatorily. Her red hair was tightly braided against her feminine features and her lips, painted a shocking burgundy, were pursed tightly. Natasha Romanoff - the Black Widow of S.H.I.E.L.D.  

"Sir," she greeted. 

They strode away from the scientists, heading towards the pulsing Tesseract. The blue light refracted around the room, throwing Natasha's features into sharp relief. Fury watched her out of the corner of his eye, his mouth drawn in a thin line.

"I gave you this assignment so you could keep watch over things," Fury said. 

"I observe from the shadows, you know that."

"What can you tell me?" 

Natasha placed her hands on her hips, tipping her head as she gazed into the crystalline cube. After a moment of silence she exhaled softly and snapped her sharp gaze back to his face. 

"Selvig and the doctors are all clean," she reported. "No texts, no calls either. That's in and out. From what I can see this thing has started reacting all on its own. Although . . ."

"Yes?" 

"Well the Tesseract is an object from outer space, it creates doorways to other dimensions right? All I'm saying is that doors open from both sides, sir."

Fury's eyebrows shot up and he narrowed his eyes at her. He knew he should have put Barton on this assignment as well. Two trained assassins watching was better than one. At that moment a pulse of energy shook the room, causing one of the scientists to cry;

"Doctor! It's spiking again!"

He could feel the tension rolling off Romanoff in waves, her curved and dangerous body rigid and poised to strike or run. Fury took a small step back, his hand flying to his sidearm. By his side, Romanoff followed his movements with delicate precision. 

Seconds later the room shook with the force as the Tesseract exploded, sending a bright beam of blue light towards the centre of the room. Fury and Romanoff were thrown backwards, tumbling painfully to the floor. Smoke fogged the room and the walls shook, sending more debris to the floor. 

Fury rolled onto his knees, groaning as he rubbed at the lump on his head. The fog was clearing when he spotted the figure, crouched as he was. This figure was a lithe man, with long dark hair and strange clothing that Fury hadn't seen for a long time. The man was pale and sweating, a greedy smile on his face as he lifted a strange spear in his grip. 

"Sir," Fury called, drawing his gun. "Put down the spear!"

It was the wrong thing to say. The man shoved the spear forward, a pulse of energy blowing away the three agents that had moved to subdue him. Romanoff leapt forward, firing her two guns at him and only just managed to roll out of the way of yet another energy blast. 

Then he was in front of Romanoff, swinging the spear at her head. She ducked but wasn't quite fast enough to dodge the foot to her abdomen. The man reached down and lifted her with ease, lifting her to eye level. Romanoff glared at him, her eyes sharp and daring. 

"You are skilled," the man purred. "And you have passion."

Fury could do nothing as he watched the man place the tip of the spear against Romanoff's chest. The struggle was momentary before her eyes went completely black and flashed to an eerie blue. The man dropped her to her feet and Romanoff relaxed, holstering her weapons. 

The head of S.H.I.E.L.D glared. Whatever they had done to her, he wagered it wasn't good. As the man continued around the room, turning the other agents with minimal effort, Fury quickly removed the Tesseract from its reactor and placing it into a metallic briefcase. 

"Please don't," the man said, his back still to Fury. "I still need that."

"This doesn't have to be this way,” Fury tried, raising a hand to placate the stranger.

The dark haired stranger sneered at him, lip curling in disgust. “Of course it does. I’ve come too far for it to be anything else,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “I am Loki, of Asgard and I am burdened with a glorious purpose.”

“Loki,” Selvig breathed. “Brother of Thor.”

The man, Loki, narrowed his eyes at Selvig and, as if on a silent cue, Romanoff took a menacing step forward. Fury eyed her warily, she appeared to be under some kind of enchantment or else had been brainwashed. This was not good; Romanoff was one of their best agents. If she had been compromised. . .

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Fury said.

He needed to buy some time, the roof above their heads was looking terribly unstable and if he had to bury all of them to protect the cube well then so be it.

“An ant has no quarrel with a boot,” Loki sneered.

“Are you planning to step on us?” Fury asked, frowning. This one was a whole new kind of crazy. So this was Thor’s brother hm?

“I’m come with glad tidings,” the demi-god announced. “Of a world set free!”

“Free from what?”

Loki began to pace, a maniacal gleam in his eye. “Freedom. Freedom is life's great lie,” he said, “Once you accept that, in your heart,” he paused, whirled around and placed the spear against Selvig’s chest. “You will know peace.”

The doctor was now under his control as well? Fury bit down on his tongue, the situation was spiralling out of control.

“You say peace,” he snapped. “I kind of think you mean the other thing.”

Romanoff, who had been staring at Fury in an odd, detached manner suddenly, strode forward to Loki’s side, placing a delicate hand on his forearm. “Sir, the director is stalling,” she said softly. “The lab is about to explode, burying us in layers of rock. That’s your plan is it?” she asked Fury, mocking him. “To imprison us?”

“Like the Pharaohs of Egypt,” Fury saluted, glaring at Romanoff. “One good turn deserves another.”

“The Widow’s right!” Selvig cried. “This whole place is about to blow! We’ve got two minutes before the situation gets critical!”

Loki smirked. “In that case. . . Widow?”

Romanoff smiled, turned to Fury and fired her gun too fast for Fury to dodge. The bullet grazed his collarbone and he grimaced, turning around just in time to see Loki lead his agents out of the building, Selvig pausing to grab the Tesseract as they left.

 

~~~

 

Agent Maria Hill was supervising the dispatch of S.H.I.E.L.D phase two technology when she spotted Romanoff headed for her, accompanied by Selvig and man who looked like he’d stepped of a medieval fair. The redheaded female seemed unconcerned by him and tipped her head politely at Hill.

“We need to use these vehicles,” Romanoff said. “The situation has changed.”

“Fury didn’t tell me that,” Hill frowned. “Who’s your friend?”

“One of the new vogue scientists, didn’t catch a name though.”

Hill nodded, waving them towards a four wheel drive parked nearby and headed back to her position when her walkie talkie crackled into life, Fury’s voice floating down the line.

“ _Hill! Do you copy?!"_

“Sir?”

“ _Romanoff’s been compromised! They have the Tesseract! Stop them!”_

Hill’s eyes went wide and she made a dodge roll; only just missing the two bullets as they grazed harmlessly over her head. Romanoff had tried to shoot her?! The dark haired female turned on her heel and returned fire, only to miss as Romanoff leapt into the driver’s seat and hooned away.

“ _Don’t let them get away!”_ Fury shouted down the line.

“I’m on it!” Hill replied, jumping into the spare Jeep.

 

~~~

Silence. Fury paced the dirt, turning the walkie talkie over and over in his hand. Coulson was at his side, a deep frown on his face and his hands clenched by his side. They had only just managed to escape before the facility had gone underground and there was still no word from Hill. Romanoff had escaped into the darkness, taking Loki and Selvig with her.

The walkie talkie crackled into life. “ _Sir?”_ Hill asked, coughing.

“The Tesseract is with a hostile force,” Fury said, not even pausing to ask her condition. “I have men down, what about you?”

“ _A lot of men are still under; I’m not sure how many survivors there are._ ”

Fury turned to Coulson. “Sound the general call. Every man and woman that isn’t working rescue is going to be looking for the briefcase, do you understand?”

“Roger that.”

“Then get back to base,” Fury added. He lifted the microphone. “Hill, as of right now this is a level seven. As of right now, we are at war.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to publish this on Thursday but with exams coming up etc. I thought I'd be nice and update early! Hopefully its worth the early publication and please do leave a comment letting me know what you think!

**Parallax**

 

 

**_Budapest._ **

**_Seven years previous . ._ **

The bar was hazy with the fog of cigarettes and smelt of alcohol, cologne and sweat. Barton wrinkled his nose at the scents but otherwise remained focused, his gaze buried in the bottom of his glass, the pálinka swirling in its depths. This was one of the most notorious bars in Budapest; he had seen many of the ordinary folk avoiding it carefully. So it seemed this was the best place to begin his search.

“Te vagy az új” the barkeep said.

Barton raised his gaze and nodded, drowning the last of his drink. “Másik kérlek,” he replied, his Hungarian smooth and rich. It hadn’t been easy to learn but he’d managed it. “Business rossz Oroszországban,” he added, rubbing his temple. “Itt volt az ideje egy új kezdet.”

“Oroszország?” the barkeep laughed. “Tipikus. Fogadtatás, fogadtatás.”

He set a fresh drink in front of Barton and moved away to a new customer. Barton smiled to himself and raised the glass once more, only to sense someone slip in beside him. He looked over and almost fell off his seat. It was her. She looked different, she had changed her appearance again, but this was her.

“You’re not Russian,” she said in perfect English.

“No, I’m not,” Barton replied. “I’ve lived there for the last ten years though.”

“American?”

“Born yes.”

“You have that look about you,” she added, swivelling on her chair to face him head on. “A rogue with an indifferent attitude. American through and through.”

He turned his own chair. “And you?”

“Russian born and bred,” she said. “Да здравствует Россия”

“Приятно познакомиться.”

“You speak Russian?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Like I said, I did a ten year stint there. You pick up bits and pieces,” Barton said sarcastically. He paused to take a drink and then offered her his hand. “Cyrus Brown.”

“Nadia,” she replied, shaking his hand gently.

“No last name?”

“None worth sharing,” she laughed, lifting her wrist to check the time. “Damn. I’m sorry, but I have to run.”

“Fair enough,” Barton said. “I’ll be around,” he added, handing her a card where he scrawled his number. “Give me a call.”

~~~

**_Vancouver, CANADA.  
Present Day . . ._ **

S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Clint Barton fell to the floor, rolling away before his assailants could gain the upper hand. He managed to kick one of them away before firing an arrow laced with a sedative at his chest. The poor bastard fell to the floor, paralysed. Barton turned and blocked the bunch with his bow, using his free hand to swing a punch that broke the guy’s nose. His opponent fell to the floor beside his fellow, clutching at his bleeding nose, leaving Barton standing over them, twirling his bow between his fingers. Too easy.

He began to glide through the HYDRA base, light on his feet and keeping to the shadows like he had been trained to do. He had been tracking this particular unit for several weeks now and he had finally managed to catch up with them here in Canada. Bloody typical, running for the border when cornered, Barton thought. His mobile buzzed against his leg and he looked down, annoyed.

_CALLER ID: P. COULSON._

Barton rolled his eyes and dismissed the call. Coulson could wait, he wasn’t about to jeopardise the mission this close to completion. Coulson could go screw himself.

He paused at the next open doorway, catching the whisper of voices. Two men, he summarised, the leaders as well. Barton smirked, they had made this way too easy. He drew an arrow taut against the bow string, took a deep breath and stepped around the corner, letting the arrow fly. The HYDRA agents leapt out of the way with a few shouted curses, glaring at them.

“Come on guys, can’t we all play nicely?” Barton asked sweetly, mock pouting at them.

The first HYDRA agent gave a shout and lunged forward, aiming a roundhouse kick at him which Barton dodged with ease. Punches were traded thick and fast, the Hawk even using his bow as a melee weapon when he had an opening. Eventually he had the agent on the floor with an arrow in his jugular. Barton laughed to himself. This was way too easy.

“At least give me a challenge,” he muttered, turning to next HYDRA agent. “You want to go next?”

Before the HYDRA agent could answer Barton’s mobile rang again and he sighed in frustration, closing his eyes. For fuck’s sake. He turned to his next opponent and shrugged.

“Please excuse me, I have to take this call,” he sighed, hitting the answer button on his hands free. “Coulson I swear to every God there is I am going to kick your ass when I see you next! I’m kind of busy here.”

“ _This takes precedence._ ”

“Screw precedence,” Barton snarled. “I’ve been tracking these cocky little bastards for three weeks and I’ve finally got them and you want to pull me out? Hell no.” 

“ _Barton you’re going to want to get back to base ASAP,_ ” Coulson said. There was an odd tone in his voice that under normal circumstances Barton would be worried.

“Sorry Coulson,” he sighed. “Call in Ward, or someone who isn’t up to their elbows in bullshit.”

“ _Clint. Romanoff’s been compromised.”_

Time slowed and Barton felt as though someone had reached into his chest and taken his heart into a vice like grip. A filthy curl took over his lip, his fists clenching together.

“Hold the line please,” he said softly, deadly steel in his voice. He turned the HYDRA man. “I’m going to get serious now.”

The HYDRA man, who up until that point had been gaping at him, went pale. Seconds later he lay dead upon the floor, four arrows buried in his chest and neck – Barton’s angry buried them deeply. He turned on his heel and stalked out without a backwards glance, cold fury in his eyes.

“What do you mean she’s been compromised?” he growled at Coulson.

“ _Fury has all the details. All I know is that she’s off the grid, possessed apparently by Loki of Asgard._ ”

Barton gritted his teeth. Thor’s conniving younger brother? “What information have you got?”

“ _Not much. Fury has enacted a level seven protocol. We’re calling in all assets,_ ” Coulson informed him.

“I am not going within twenty feet of Stark and his ego,” Barton snapped. “He was Natasha’s problem, not mine. You know what he’s going to be like when he hears about this.”

“ _Which is why Fury left him to me,_ ” Coulson said. “ _You get the big guy._ ”

“You mean . . .”

“ _Oh yeah. Make sure your flu jabs are up to date, India has a lot of nasty bugs.”_

Barton hung up, seating himself astride a sleek motorcycle and he sat back with a thoughtful look on his face.

_Well fuck._

~~~

**_Stark Tower, NEW YORK CITY._ **

Tony Stark was having a very nice evening, a glass of champagne in one hand and Pepper in his arms. They were kissing gently, Pepper settled in his lap with her hands in his hair and a sweet smile on her pretty lips. Tony was just about to slide his fingers up her silken shirt when a beeping noise echoed throughout the loft.

“ **Sir I apologise but Agent Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D requests to speak with you,** ” JARVIS said.

“Tell him to come back later, I’m a little busy,” Tony mumbled, waving away at the AI.

“Now Tony . . .” Pepper chastised, pulling away. “It might be important.”

“Honey we’re celebrating here,” he pouted. “Agent Fussypants can wait.”

“ **Sir I’m afraid he can’t, he’s just overridden my security protocols. It is apparently very important,** ” JARVIS said.

“Son of a . . .”

“Tony!”

The genius rolled his eyes and got to his feet, helping Pepper up. Tony sighed, once Coulson had stated his business the agent could be on his merry way. The lifts pinged and slid open to reveal Coulson, a grim line on his face and a file in his hands.

“Mr. Stark,” Coulson said.

“Phil, welcome,” Pepper said warmly, stepping forward. “It’s good to see you.”

“His first name is ‘Agent’!” Tony insisted, following his girlfriend over to Coulson. “We’re celebrating, you can’t stay.”

“Fury needs you to looks this over,” Coulson said, ignoring him and handing him the file. “Immediately.”

Tony shrugged. “I’m sorry, I don’t like being handed things.”

“Well lucky for everyone I do,” Pepper sighed, taking the file in one hand and shoving it into Tony’s chest. “Thank you.”

“Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday by appointment with Pepper . . .”

“This isn’t a consultation Stark,” Coulson said sharply. “This is. . .”

Pepper gasped. “The Avengers? I know nothing about that of course.”

Tony rolled his eyes and moved away, opening the file and beginning to set it up on the desk. “The Avengers Iniative was scrapped and I didn’t even qualify thanks to a certain undercover operative of yours.”

“If you’re referring to Agent Romanoff then I . . .”

 “Apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed and don’t play well with others?”

“That I did know,” Pepper piped up.

“Miss Potts, a moment if you please?” Tony interrupted, waving her over. Once she was at his side he wound his hand about her waist. “I thought we were celebrating,” he said softly.

“We were. S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t come to you unless it’s important, you know that Tony. Phil looks very concerned.”

“He always looks concerned and since when is he Phil?” Tony asked sharply.

She glared half-heartedly at him. “What is all of this?”

Tony didn’t respond and flicked the information up onto his hologram screen. If he had been any other kind of man his jaw would have dropped. A glowing cube caught his attention and he spun it. The Tesseract? He frowned as Pepper slid from his grasp.

“I’m taking the jet to D.C,” she breathed, an awed look on her face. Worry had crinkled her eyes.

“Tomorrow.”

“No Tony. You’ve got a lot of reading to do,” Pepper said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“What if I didn’t?” he asked.

“If you didn’t?” she repeated. She smiled mischievously at him, a wicked gleam in her sparkling eyes before standing on tip-toe to murmur something in his ear. This time his mouth did fall open and a small chuckle escaped his throat. “But I know you, Anthony Stark,” she said. “This is important.”

“There’s something else,” Coulson coughed. When they were looking at him he moved forward, eyes dark with worry and lines drawn deep into his forehead. “It’s Agent Romanoff.”

“What about that feisty little spider?” Tony sighed.

“Our enemy, Loki of Asgard has used some form of strange magic to confuse her mind. She’s off the grid and has been labelled as a compromised agent.”

Pepper gasped. “Tony,” she hissed. “I know you don’t like her but she has helped you in the past . . .”

He placed a finger over her lips. “Pepper. Take the plane. I’ll fix this,” he said stiffly. He turned to Coulson. “How long has she been off the grid for?”

“Too long.”

“I best get to work then.”

~~~

**_Mumbai, INDIA._ **

Bruce Banner, not so carefully disguised and rugged with his unkempt beard and three day old clothes, strolled down the streets of the slums. India wasn’t the nicest of places, particularly the area he resided in now but he figured it was the last place anyone would go looking for him. Especially Betty, she needed to be as far away from him as possible right now. After the last screw-up he wasn’t certain he could face her again.

As he walked he couldn’t help but feel as though someone was watching him carefully. Bruce glanced upwards, towards the rooves but relaxed when he saw nothing but the stars and day-old washing.

“Getting paranoid in your age Banner,” he muttered to himself.

The ramshackle bunker he was using as a temporary home was pitch black by the time he reached the door but it was a roof over his head and a semi-decent bed so Bruce didn’t feel it was right to complain. He slipped inside, dropped his bag and stretched out. A quick check of his heart-rate monitor revealed good levels. All was going well.

“Nice shack.”

Bruce jumped and swore spectacularly, whirling on his heel to face the source of the voice he’d heard floating out of the darkness. He flicked on the light and, sitting cross legged on the kitchen table was a young man, muscled and hard-jawed. The man, blonde haired and blue eyed, raised his eyebrows at him.

“You okay there Dr. Banner?”

“Way to warn a fellow!” Bruce snapped, taking a few deep breaths. “Do you have any idea what you almost caused!?”

“You’ve gone nearly a year without incident I had faith that you wouldn’t want to break that streak,” the man shrugged, hopping off the table and crossing the room with his arm extended. “Agent Clint Barton, S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D,” Bruce spat out the name like poison. He shook the boy’s hand anyway. “I thought I lost you lot back in Prague.”

“Nah,” Barton said. “We let you go, figured you were doing alright by yourself and we had more urgent matters to see to. But, sorry to tell you, we need you to come in.”

“What if I say no?”

“I don’t think you will.”

“The other guy might say no,” Bruce warned him. “Ever consider that Agent Barton?”

“Haven’t had much experience with the ‘Other Guy’ so not really.”

“You always such a smart-ass?”

Barton laughed at that, a hollow sound that didn’t reach his eyes. Bruce frowned slightly, this kid (he was younger than Bruce by a good few years) was suffering. Or worried. Or both.

“You remind me of someone I know,” Barton said simply in answer to his unspoken question. He leant back against the table and folded his arms. “Director Fury has asked that you come in to consult on something.”

“He’s after the man not the monster?”

“As far as I know,” the agent said. He handed Bruce a tablet. “That right there? That’s the Tesseract. It has the potential to provide Earth with a renewable energy resource or wipe it out.”

“Fury wants me to swallow it I guess,” Bruce deadpanned.

“If you could I’d be impressed,” Barton said cheerfully. “But no. It was stolen from us along with someone I care about. We need you to help us find it. If there was someone else better suited that’s where I’d be. I’d rather not waste my time though, that someone I care about may be in danger.”

“I understand that feeling. This thing . . . it emits gamma radiation?”

“Yeah, too weak for us to track but you? Resident gamma genius? No problem right?”

Bruce nodded. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice. Who stole it from you?”

“An alien.”

Now Bruce was intrigued.

~~~

**_Manhattan, NEW YORK CITY._ **

There were screams ringing in Steve Rogers’ ears. Bucky’s screams as he plunged into the snowy abyss, Peggy’s sobs as she realised what he had to do and his own yells, his screams as the icy water pierced his skin and damn if it didn’t burn as though he had been dropped into fire not water. The super soldier always heard screams, he couldn’t shut it out and that was what he wanted, to shut the _screams out!_

Steve slammed his fist into the punching bag with enough force to snap it in clean in half, the sand spilling out all over the gym floor. He exhaled deeply, once, twice and three times to calm himself and shook his head, trying to shake the screams away. They dulled in his ears just as he caught sight of Nick Fury leaning against the door frame, arms folded.

“Sir,” he said, nodding at him.

“I hear the night is for sleeping,” Fury suggested.

“Shouldn’t you practice what you preach, director?” Steve yawned, dragging another punching bag up to the hook and affixing it easily. “No offence sir.”

“None taken.”

“Something I can help you with?”

Fury strode forward slowly, tapping a manila file against his fingers. “You familiar with Agent Romanoff?” he asked, an odd tone to his voice.

“The Black Widow? Petite lady with fire hair?”

“That’s her.”

“What about her?” Steve asked, starting to unpeel the bandages from around his hands. When Fury didn’t respond immediately the captain turned to face him sharply, his eyebrows knitted together. “Director?”

“Agent Romanoff has been compromised, her mind infiltrated by a guy who’s . . . not from around these parts. We’re unable to locate her,” Fury grumbled.

Steve looked up sharply, his arms falling limply by his side. He’d met Romanoff a few times since returning to the real world and he’d found her very interesting, she reminded him a lot of Peggy. Take no prisoners and dangerous to even breathe incorrectly around. She was nice.

“Who got to her?”

“He’s called Loki, he’s from an alien planet. He also took something else you might remember,” Fury said stiffly, handing him the file. “A very powerful, very dangerous something else.”

The super soldier opened the file and clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the manila. That damn cube. “HYDRA’s secret weapon,” he said. “The Tesseract. Too many men died because of that thing.”

“We’re well aware. What you don’t know is that Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for a trace of you. According to the official report Agent Carter insisted they leave the cube down there but Stark realised that it had the potential energy to power the globe for eternity or . . .”

“Wipe it out?” Steve interrupted sharply.

“Exactly,” Fury finished. His visible eye was tight with tension. “We need you to come in. You have a clear head and you know a bit about Romanoff. Can we count on you, Captain?”

With a nod, he got to his feet and swung the gym bag over one shoulder moving past Fury. “I thought I’d seen everything but aliens? That’s new. I doubt there’s anything that could surprise me anymore,” Steve said.

“Ten bucks says I prove you wrong,” Fury drawled.

“Oh and director?” Steve called over his shoulder. “You should have left that stupid thing in the ocean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Te vagy az új – You’re new here  
> Másik kérlek – Another please  
> Business rossz Oroszországban – Business is bad in Russia  
> Itt volt az ideje egy új kezdet – It was time for a fresh start.  
> Oroszország – Russia  
> Да здравствует Россия – long live Russia  
> Приятно познакомиться. – nice to meet you


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're back to our regularly scheduled viewing. As of today updates will only be on a Thursday, of that I am sure!~  
> The chapters are a bit slow at the moment but hopefully this chapter speeds things up a bit for you all! Let me know what you all think!

**Parallax**

**_Budapest._ **

****_Seven years previous . . .  
  
_

Three shipping containers were stacked inside the warehouse, each taped with bright yellow tape of official embargo. Two muscle men with automatic rifles stood at each end, their pale hair shining in the industrial lighting. Barton hovered nearby, a hand resting on the automatic handgun he’d strapped to his hip. The man by his side, with dusty hair and dark eyes, ran his tongue over his teeth.

“He’s late isn’t he?” Barton asked softly.

The dusty haired man nodded jerkily. “Bajusz is not one for timeliness,” he said. “He never was. But he’ll be here, so don’t worry Cyrus.”

“I ain’t worried Álmos. I just dislike waiting around. Last thing we need is the authorities swarming around us like some breed of killer bees.”

Álmos Kardos, Hungarian national and known weapons runner, nodded in agreement. Álmos was his official business partner; Barton just thanked heaven that he had paid extra attention in the weapons training during the Academy. They were waiting on a man known only as Bajusz the Black, to sell him a shipment of explosives.

According to S.H.I.E.L.D’s intelligence the Black Widow, his target, the woman from the bar, was involved. It had been a few months and no calls had come in. Barton was about ready to give up and try a new angle until Álmos mentioned that Bajusz the Black had an associate known as the Lady Widow. So here they were, waiting on this guy and Barton was cold, damp and very annoyed.

“Szia, Álmos!”

They turned to face the voice seeing a slender man, garbed all in black and his silky black hair tied in a knot at the base of his neck. Bajusz the Black walked with confidence and grace that oozed confidence and Barton found he already disliked the guy, just from the snide smirk that crossed his features. He wasn’t alone either.

“Well if it isn’t mister American,” the Widow laughed. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too gorgeous,” Barton flirted, winking at her. “Finally found work.”

“So I see.”

“Who is this seggfej, Álmos?” Bajusz asked warmly, but Barton could see the flame of jealousy in his beady eyes. “I thought you’d quit using Americans to do your dirty work.”

“He’s American born yes, but my friend here comes to us from Russia. His name is Cyrus, Cyrus Brown,” Álmos waved him off. “Ten years running drugs there and he’s come here to find greener pastures.”

Barton nodded at Bajusz, stepping forward and offering his hand. “Örülök, hogy találkoztunk,” he greeted the man. When the other man made no other move to shake his hand, Barton dropped it and crossed his hands behind his back.

“So the American speaks Hungarian?” Bajusz sneered. “I see you’ve met my business partner, Natalia Romanova.”

“Brief meeting,” Barton said.

“Come, let me show you what we have for you my friend,” Álmos said, waving them over to the cartons. He nodded to one of the muscles. “Crack them open.”

The lids slid away to reveal layer upon layers of automatic rifles, ammunitions and – Barton sucked in a breath – hand grenades and pipe bomb parts. Bajusz smiled widely, a sharky grin stretching across his waxy skin. Barton cleared his face of emotions and eyed the Widow out the corner of his eye. She seemed relax and confident, her striking features in a mask just like his.

He couldn’t deny she was beautiful but he wasn’t here to judge her beauty. He was here to . . . Barton sighed inwardly and refocused his attention on Álmos and Bajusz. They were discussing something in rapid Hungarian that he couldn’t quite catch. He watched as Bajusz slipped a large wad of cash in Álmos’ hands and the two laughed together.

“Come Widow,” Bajusz cooed, turning to walk away. “We’ll bring the trucks around.”

Barton’s nerves began to tingle as the two walked away and unconsciously his hand traipsed over to his sidearm. Too late. Bajusz snapped around and fired off three shots into Álmos, sending him flying to the floor in a spray of blood. The Hawk swore and dove for cover behind the crates, drawing his weapon.

“Jesus Christ!” he shouted. “Álmos!”

“I hate Americans,” Bajusz snarled. “Widow, kill him.”

Barton peered over the crates and caught her eye. It was only a second but he saw the indecision in her eyes and he frowned. Why would the Widow pause in orders from her partner? She was a trained killer, an assassin that S.H.I.E.L.D wanted eliminated no matter what.

Before he had a chance to question it further the Widow had turned and brought her gun flying across Bajusz’s face. He crumpled with a string of Hungarian curses and fumbled for his weapon which had cluttered to the concrete floor and then she was astride him.

“I dislike people who kill for no reason,” she purred, a sneer on her plump lips. “This partnership is over,” she added, shooting him clean through the neck.

 _Holy shit,_ Barton thought, _holy shit!_

The Widow hurried over to him and hauled him up the arm, pushing him towards the exit. “Move,” she hissed. “Come on you idiot, move it!”

“You just. . .!”

“Yes, yes I just killed a man to protect you now let’s get moving before the rest of his goons arrive!”

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier  
Present Day . . ._ **

Phil Coulson ran a hand over his face, rubbing away the fatigue that threatened to send him to sleep. Nearby Captain Steve Rogers, a.k.a Captain America, a.k.a Coulson’s childhood hero, sat engrossed in the film that played across the tablet screen. There was a small frown on the Captain’s face as he watched a large green humanoid figure rip apart a military tank.

“So Banner was trying to recreate the serum they used on me?” Rogers asked.

“He was convinced the gamma radiation was the key to unlocking Erskine’s original formula. Unfortunately he miscalculated and well, as you can see . . .”

“Yes, do you think he’ll come in?”

“Agent Barton can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be,” Coulson shrugged. “Especially if it means Banner can help us locate Romanoff.”

“The two of them are close?” Rogers queried.

“They’ve been partners since Budapest,” Coulson told him. He smiled. “I must say though, sir, it is a true honour to finally meet you. I mean I sort of met you before, whilst you were unconscious. I didn’t officially meet you but you know . . .”

Rogers nodded and got to his feet, rolling out his large shoulders. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I hope that my old school style is what we need for the job.”

Coulson tilted his head. “With everything that’s going on I’d safely say that ‘old school’ may be just what the doctor ordered.”

The jet touched down and Coulson led Rogers out onto the deck of the Helicarrier. As soon as they were in the warmth of the sun a figure came walking towards them. The light cleared and Coulson offered a welcoming smile as Clint Barton came walking towards them, his bow slung clean across his back alongside his quiver.

“Agent Barton, this is Captain Rogers,” Coulson introduced, gesturing between the two men.

They shook hands and the Hawk nodded. “Good to meet the man who is the legend,” he said and then turned to Coulson. “Fury wants you on the bridge; I’ll deal with Cap and the good doctor.”

Coulson nodded and departed quickly. Barton rolled his eyes. “When word got out that they found your ice bed S.H.I.E.L.D went into overdrive,” he said. “We thought Coulson was going to swoon. Did he ask you to sign his trading cards yet?”

“Trading cards?”

“They’re ‘vintage’, he’s _very_ proud,” Barton sighed.

Rogers turned to Barton. “I hear you’re an expert marksman,” he said. “Your file is an impressive read.”

Barton chuckled. “Thanks. Try reading Nat’s next time, it’s like reading an action movie,” he said, moving towards where Bruce Banner was pacing and looking very uncomfortable. “Everything cool here, doc?”

“Ah yes, hi,” Banner said uneasily.

“Pleasure to meet you doctor,” Rogers said warmly, shaking his hand. “Word is you can help us find the cube.”

“Is that the only word on me?”

“Only word I care about,” Rogers said with an indifferent shrug. “I see you and Agent Barton are well acquainted already.”

“Oh yeah,” Barton drawled. “We’re the best of chums since India, right doc? Either way we should probably think about heading inside, breathing is about to become a tad difficult.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth that a large rumble began to echo around them, the ground beneath their feet began to vibrate. Banner and Rogers automatically slipped into defensive stances, the former looking like a spooked animal and prepared to run.

“Is this a submarine?” Rogers asked.

“Great. A sub? They want me in a pressurised, underwater _metal_ container?” Banner asked, incredulously.

Barton just grinned as they began to rise into the air. “Come on boys, I really think we ought to move inside,” he laughed.

“Oh no, this much worse!” Banner shouted over the noise. “A flying, pressurised _metal_ container!”

Inside the Helicarrier the three men moved in the large bullpen, Barton in the lead. As soon as they were inside Rogers moved towards where Fury was standing, giving orders and having a silent conversation with Maria Hill. Barton could only laugh as the American hero reached into his pocket and handed the Director a ten dollar bill.

“Dr. Banner, thank you for coming,” Fury said sincerely, shaking the scientist’s hand and nodding approvingly towards Barton.

Banner coughed. “Thanks for asking nicely.”

“I’m sure Agent Barton briefed you on the delicate nature of the situation.”

“He did,” Banner said. “In order to track down this thing, and your missing agent, I’m going to need to know where you’re at with tracking them.”

“Any wireless connection we can get our hands on has become our eyes and ears,” Coulson said from his station. “Cell phones, laptops, tablets - you name it and it’s our tool.”

Barton shuffled his feet, a deep line in his forehead. “That’s not going to find them in nearly enough time.”

“The field is too wide,” Banner said, shaking his head. “How many spectrometers do you have at your disposal?”

“How many do you need?” Fury asked.

“Call every lab you know and get them to place them on the roof. Align them for gamma radiation and I’ll draft out a basic tracking algorithm, it will take some time but it will be quicker than relying on cameras. If Agent Romanoff is as good as I’ve heard then she’ll know how to avoid you. Do you have somewhere I can work?”

Fury nodded, calling Barton over. “You can brood later,” he hissed into his ear. “Agent Barton will show you the lab, doctor.”

The marksman bit his tongue and moved away from the director, clapping his arm around Banner’s shoulder. “Come on doc, I’ll show you what we got. All the toys, outfitted with any and all bells and whistles,” he said, leading the scientist away.

“Fury doesn’t like the fact that you and Romanoff are close,” Banner said easily, rolling up his sleeves as they walked.

Barton paused in his step, whirling around to face him. The doctor shrugged. “I know that look,” he explained. “He’s protective of her but not nearly as protective as he is concerned about your influence.”

“Speaking from experience?”

The smile that split Banner’s face was sad and self-depreciating. “You could say that.”

~~~

**_Unidentified S.H.I.E.L.D base.  
Location: Unknown. . ._ **

Loki, son of Laufey and second prince of Asgard, leaned against a wall, cloaked in invisibility. It was easier to observe his minions in such a manner, it allowed to him to brood on events without being interrupted. He watched as the woman, Romanoff he was sure she’d been called or ‘the Widow’, crossed her shapely legs as she typed away at a computer screen. Selvig came up to her, a wide smile on his face.

“Where do you find these people?” he asked genially, spinning one of the tools in his hands.

“S.H.I.E.L.D has an unlimited supply of enemies doctor,” Romanoff said simply, focused intently on her work. “All you have to know is which hole to put the gas down so you can flush the rats out.”

“Splendid, splendid!”

“Is this it?” she asked, turning the screen to face the doctor. A moving image of a strange rocky substance filled the screen.

“Iridium,” Selvig nodded. “That’s it. Commonly found in meteorites and has the ability to act as a stabilising agent. Incredibly rare and difficult to get a hold of.”

“Especially if S.H.I.E.L.D knows you want it.”

“Well I didn’t know did I? But now . . .” Selvig trailed off, a beatific look in his eerie blue eyes. Loki smiled victoriously. He was responding well to the control. He stepped forward, removing his invisibility as he went. “Hey!” Selvig called. “The Tesseract is great! All of it! It has shown me new worlds, truth and power!”

“It is extraordinary,” Loki said, smiling. He turned to the woman. “What has shown you, oh Widow?”

The woman slid over to his side and stared him square in the eyes, her dark eyes alight with a flame Loki knew only too well. “My next ‘assignment’,” she laughed, moving out of the lab towards the nearby SUV, him following behind her.

“What do you need?”

“A distraction,” Widow purred. “And one eyeball.”

Loki grinned. That was simple enough. He moved to her side, shooing away the others with a flick of his wrist and pulled her loose hair back from her neck. He placed his lips close to her ear, gave it a gentle kiss and blew over it, his warm breath bringing goose bumps up on her skin.

“Anything else?” he asked seductively.

“Not at this point in time,” she replied, leaning into his touch. “But you do, apparently,” she added, turning to face him.

“I need you to tell me everything you know about what enemies I can expect to be meddling in our affairs,” Loki said softly, cupping her chin. “And you will tell me everything, mind, or I will be very _disappointed_.”

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier. . ._ **

In the training room, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and breathing deeply Clint Barton swung his bow at a target, twirling the melee with ease. He was shirtless and if he had cared to look in the mirror he would have seen the purpling bruise on his stomach. Barton couldn’t feel anything at that moment except the beating of his heart and the ever present worry that gnawed on his insides.

 _Natasha, Natasha, Natasha,_ he thought bitterly. _Where are you?_

It was ludicrous that she would have gotten corrupted so easily, a foreign concept to Barton’s mind. She was strong and confident, how could she be taken over by a hostile force without even putting up a fight. He thought he had trained her better than that! Hell, he thought _she_ had trained herself better than that.

“You’re injured.”

“Fuck off Coulson.”

The older agent made an amused hum in the back of his throat and moved into Barton’s line of vision, a mask across his face and his arms folded across his chest. Barton just glared at Coulson and then began to wrench the gloves off his hands, a filthy look on his face.

“Barton . . .”

“I told you to fuck off.”

“Well I’m not,” Coulson said sharply, moving to block his attempt at escaping. “Are you running? Because of Romanoff?”

“That was _my_ assignment!” Barton snarled suddenly, grabbing Coulson by the lapels of his jacket. “I was supposed to be the one watching Selvig and that stupid thing but then she had to insist that I take the Vancouver assignment and you know why? Because she knew I would be too bored playing babysitter! Now look what happened!”

“This isn’t your fault Clint.”

“The hell it is!” he shouted, throwing Coulson away from him. “From the first day she got here she’s been my responsibility and now she’s in the wind . . .”

“By no choice of her own,” Coulson reminded him. “We’ll find her Barton and we’ll help her.”

“The Council won’t allow that. She’s become a liability to them just like they thought she would. They’re going to ask me to, to . . .” Barton said hoarsely, sinking to his knees. “I couldn’t kill her the first time. I sure as hell won’t be able to do it this time.”

“Fury’s not going to give up the Widow that easily.”

“What the director wants he doesn’t always get,” he replied, shaking his head. “What if we can’t help her huh Coulson? What if we can’t get rid of this brainwashing? What then?”

The older agent knelt in front of him, interlacing his fingers and exhaling deeply. “Then we do what she would do for us,” he said quietly. “We stop her. We stop her so she won’t get any more red in her ledger, just like you promised her.”

“I won’t kill her Phil, I can’t do it, I owe her.”

“She may not give you a choice.”

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Plane  
Stuttgart, Germany._ **

Barton hovered the plane in the darkening clouds, ready for when Rogers made his move against Loki. The archer rather thought the soldier was taking his sweet time since Loki had already had time to make a grand speech about how he believed humans were beneath him. And to make matters worse, he couldn’t see Natasha anywhere. He wasn’t even picking up a signal from her mobile, it was the smart move to turn it off Barton realised but he had hoped that small part of her mind was still strong enough.

Loki raised the spear and pointed it at a helpless elderly man, Barton glared. He was moving in, no matter what Rogers was planning. It seemed they both had the same idea though, because a blue, red and white blur moved in front of the man, throwing up the circular shield.

“You know,” Rogers said, rising to his feet. “The last time I was in Germany there was also a man standing above everyone else and declaring himself better than everyone. We ended up having a difference of opinions.”

“The soldier,” Loki hissed. “A man out of time. A relic.”

Barton lowered the guns and activated the speaker. “Loki, stand down!” he ordered through the microphone. “We have you surrounded.”

The dark haired demi-god gave a cruel smile and fired off a blast of blue energy towards them, forcing Barton to take evasive manoeuvres to avoid it. By the time he had righted the mini-jet Rogers and Loki were trading punches and kicks. Barton winced as Loki smacked Rogers in the gut with that strange sceptre he carried, sending the super-soldier with a grunt of pain.

His co-pilot groaned. “ _This_ is Captain America?” he asked. “He’s all over the place.”

Barton knew he was right but he knew better than most that the Captain had been benched from action ever since he had woken from that small seventy year nap he’d taken. Still – Barton inhaled sharply as Loki kicked Rogers across the face. He was just about to bring the sceptre down over Rogers head when a strange noise came blasting through the jet’s speakers.

“What the fuck?” Barton growled, tapping at the panels. AC/DC?

At that moment a voice crackled through his intercom that had him frowning deeply. “Agent Barton is it?” the voice said. “Tony Stark. Iron Man. I got this, no worries.”

“I know who you are,” Barton snarled.

Stark came rocketing around the corner and fired a small round of energy blasts, sending Loki toppling to the ground. He landed with a spectacular _thud,_ cracking the pavement under his mechanical feet. Rogers stared at the Iron Man as though he had two heads instead of one mechanical one. Several of the metallic plates slid aside and two small rocket launchers activated, pointed threateningly at the Asgardian.

“Make a move reindeer games,” Stark said sweetly.

Barton rolled his eyes and snapped at his co-pilot to get them back on board instantly, sitting back into the chair to brood. He had known Stark was coming; hell he had been one of Fury’s first choices for the Avenger’s Iniative thanks to his studious intellect and knowledge of weapons and energy. But he disliked the guy. Everything that Natasha had told him reminded Barton very much of someone who ought to be taken a peg or two, with an arrow to his rear end preferably.

Once the two Avengers to be were back on board with Loki in custody Barton turned to his communicator, determined to ignore the demi-god. If he looked at him then he would be tempted to beat Natasha’s whereabouts out of him and then Coulson would have his ass.

“This is Barton, we have Loki in custody and we’re returning to base.”

“ _Copy that._ ”

Stark and Rogers started bickering the moment Loki was secured.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Captain.”

Rogers was silent for a moment and then he whispered; “I don’t like it.”

“What?” Stark asked and Barton just knew the billionaire was rolling in his eyes. “Rock of ages giving up so quickly?”

“Yeah well, I don’t ever remember it being that easy. This guy packs a wallop.”

“Well, you are pretty spry for an older fellow. What’s your secret? Pilates?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s like calisthenics. Oh you might have missed a few things. You know, whilst you were doing time as a Capsicle.”

“Fury didn’t tell me he was calling you in,” Rogers said tersely.

 _Oh shit, here we go,_ Barton thought. Last thing they needed was the two of them going at it like a two beavers in a wood shack.

“There’s a lot of things Fury doesn’t tell you,” Stark mused. “Don’t take it personally.”

A loud crash of lightning and thunder split the sky and Barton looked up, his eyes widening slightly. Where the hell was this storm coming from? The weather reports had said specifically that there would be little storm cover this flight. A loud thump echoed across the jet and Barton was hard pressed to keep it from falling out of the sky as an extra weight landed on their heads.

“Scared of a little lightning?” he heard Stark mock Loki.

“I’m not overly fond of what follows,” Loki said uneasily.

It appeared that their prisoner’s unease was not unfounded when the hatch opened and a large, hulking man came through the opening. His blonde hair danced in the breeze, mingling with the red cape he proudly sported. Barton wanted to yell in frustration, great, Thor had arrived. Another mess to clean up. Before the Hawk could say anything though Thor had grabbed Loki by the front of his robes and had leapt out into the raging storm.

Stark was furious. “And then there’s that guy,” he growled, grabbing the mask.

“Stark you might want to . . .”

“ _STARK_!” Rogers bellowed, interrupting Barton. “We need a plan!”

“I have a plan,” Iron Man said simply. “Attack.”

With that Iron Man had flown off into the gathering darkness leaving Barton alone with a dumbfounded Steve Rogers. The blue clad man sighed and grabbed a parachute, strapping himself in. Barton tilted his head and tried to slow the plane ever so slightly.

“I’d tell you to give it up but I don’t think you will,” he called over the howling wind. “Just be careful Rogers, those two? Basically come from legends, they’re gods if you will.”

“There’s only one god, Agent Barton, and he sure as hell doesn’t dress like that!” Rogers called over his shoulder as he too disappeared.

Barton rolled his eyes and made a mental note to go straight to the scotch cabinet when they got back to base.

~~~

**_A Forrest  
Unknown Location . . ._ **

Tony Stark hurtled through the night sky, positively fuming with frustration. He’d just captured the prisoner, saved Captain America’s ass and then somebody thought it was funny to steal his things? _Well, they were about to learn the first rule of dealing with Anthony H. Stark_ , he thought grimly as he slammed into the strange new being and sent them both hurtling to the forest floor.

The strange being, with a mop of dirty blonde hair and outfits Tony hadn’t seen in a very long time struggled to his feet, a dangerous glare on his face. Tony clicked his fingers and slid his faceplate back so he could observe this being. Obviously this was another Asgardian.

“Do not touch me again,” the being said.

“Then don’t take my stuff,” Tony snarked.

“You have no idea what you are dealing with.”

“Shakespeare in the Park?” Tony asked, stepping forward and spreading his arms wide. “Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?”

“I have come to take Loki back to face judgement for his crimes,” the Asgardian growled. “Not to parlay with a metal man who speaks words I cannot place a meaning to.”

“Once he’s handed over the Tesseract you can have him. Until then, stay out of our way,” he replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have my prisoner to collect.”

“You will not touch him!” the Asgardian bellowed, swinging the hammer he carried in a mighty circle with an ease that Tony hadn’t been expecting.

 _Okay fine,_ Tony thought, firing a laser beam at his opponent and then taking flight, kicking out. The Asgardian caught his kick and swung him around as easy as if he were made of paper and through him through two trees. Tony picked his way out of the bark.

“ **Sir, if I may – I believe a hasty retreat may be in order?** ”

“Grow a spine JARVIS,” Tony groaned, getting back on his feet. “I’m not done yet.”

A bolt of lightning split the sky and charged itself through the hammer; the Asgardian was nearly glowing with energy, an unearthly glow surrounding his muscled limbs. Tony barely had time to dodge before the lightning struck him square over the arc reactor, sending him toppling to the floor once more as the systems in front of his vision danced erratically.

“ **Sir. Power is at four thousand per-cent.** ”

“How about that?” Tony mused. “Hey big guy? Catch!”

The blast from his chest plate sent the god flying backwards and then he was rocketing forward once more, running heavily and swinging the hammer yet again. Tony planted his feet and braced for impact, this guy packed a serious punch. Out of nowhere a strange whistling noise caught his peripheral attention and bright blue and red shield came hurtling between them, stopping both mid-fight.

“That’s enough!” Rogers commanded. “From what I heard you want justice as well?”

“I have come here to put an end to Loki’s madness!” the Asgardian all but roared.

“Prove it,” the soldier said gently, jumping down to join them. “Put the hammer down.”

Stark’s eyes widened. “Yeah, no, bad idea! Cap, he loves the hammer!”

“You want me to put the hammer down?!” was the shouted reply. “Then I will!”

Tony, who had been flung backwards as the god took off towards Rogers, could only watch as the hammer came down upon the shield and a bright light enveloped the forest.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is where things will start to build! Barton's relationship with each Avenger will become clearer as time goes on and I am dying to show off the chapter with the Loki showdown!   
> As always reviews are appreciated! Let me know good and bad things!

**Parallax**

 

 

**_Budapest._ **

**_Seven years previous . ._ **

 

“Cyrus?”

Barton glanced over at his target, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of the truck he’d hijacked. Natalia Romanova – the Black Widow and his target – was staring at him very intently, her legs tucked underneath her body.

“What are you staring for?” he asked eventually. “Is there something on my face?” he mock squealed.

He got an eye roll for that one. “No, don’t worry your pretty face is fine,” she sighed.

“Oh thank goodness, it takes hard work to look as handsome as I do . . .”

“Cyrus why are you trusting me?” Romanova interrupted, holding up a hand. “You have no idea who I am and what I might be capable of, but here you are.”

Barton raised his eyebrows and turned back to face the road, his face twisting thoughtfully. “You saved my life,” he settled on. “The way I see it, I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides if you could kill me you would have already. So the better question is why did you save my life?”

She shrugged. “You seemed nice enough the first time we met,” she said. “Also, Bajusz isn’t normally one for killing his business partners. Ergo it was odd when he killed Álmos and went for you.”

“What was he normally like then?”

“Strict. A pain in the ass. A true businessman though, he wouldn’t have killed Álmos without a reason,” Romanova mused. “We’re in serious danger you know that right?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Hungarians are different to Russians Cyrus, I mean it. They have no problem banding together with other low-life’s to achieve their goals. If Bajusz’s friends want us dead then we may possibly have every criminal from the Hungarian underworld with our faces in their rifle scopes.”

“Well that sounds depressing,” Barton said, turning the steering wheel and moving the car towards a road-side motel. “Whatever you think about me you might want to re-asses, Natalia,” he added. “I’m not exactly a pushover and if push comes to shove I have no problem calling in a few contacts from Russia or the States.”

Barton’s mobile rang and he glanced down at the screen with a frown.

_CALLER ID: Unknown._

He shared a look with Romanova and answered it pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder, throwing the car into park.

“Hello?”

“ _Cyrus Brown. You killed my brother,_ ” a female voice cooed.

“Sorry sweet cheeks I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Barton snapped tensely. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“ _Álmos Kardos? Your employer? The one you left to bleed to death in a warehouse. I know you’re working with the Widow and that she killed Bajusz the Black._ ”

Barton exhaled. Shit. “You’re Eszter,” he said simply. “Look whatever you’ve been told it’s not true. Bajusz killed your brother not me.”

“ _I don’t care what you have to say,”_ Eszter snarled. “ _Bajusz and Álmos were partners for years and now they are both dead. You and that kurva should watch your backs. We’re coming for you.”_

“I look forward to finally meeting you,” Barton retorted. “Good luck finding us.”

He threw the phone out the window and gunned the engine, pulling the truck out onto the road once more. Romanova, who had remained silent up until this point, was forced to grab the handle of her door as Barton swerved to avoid the oncoming traffic.

“Do you have a plan?” she asked tightly.

“Yeah, we’re getting back into the city. I have a backup residence that we can use there with some extra weapons and shit. They’ll be expecting us to flee the city not stay holed up there.”

“I hope it works,” Romanova said, turning to glare at him. “I don’t plan on dying for you.”

 _You might die because of me,_ Barton thought grimly.

~~~

**_Unidentified Base. . .  
Location: Unknown._ **

Natasha Romanoff tossed and turned in her sleep, finally getting up and running her fingers through her shoulder length red hair. All around the bunker the noise of construction echoed, hence why she found herself unable to relax. Her mind was shrouded and cloudy, a strange feeling had taken over her body and one voice kept hovering to the front of her mind.

 _Natasha,_ the voice whispered. _Natasha, wake up._

I am awake, she reflected bitterly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her only focus was and should be Loki’s mission, their mission. Not some strange voice that she couldn’t tell if she knew or didn’t know. Romanoff rolled out her shoulders easily and got to her feet, the concrete cold against her bare feet.

 _Not safe here, you’re not safe here,_ the voice called to her.

She was safe. Safe as long as she followed Loki’s plan to the letter, he was her lord, her worthy lord and she would obey him. Natasha glanced down at her hands and flexed them experimentally, watching her thin digits curl themselves into fists. She gave a few practice punches and smiled, she was as dextrous as always.

A knock echoed at her door and Natasha looked up, grabbing her leather jacket and swinging it about her slim shoulders. “Enter,” she called.

Selvig poked his head around the corner. “Widow, you lovely thing you,” he said cheerfully.

“What do you want Selvig?”

“We just got word that Loki has infiltrated the S.H.I.E.L.D ranks.”

Natasha smiled nastily. “Excellent,” she murmured. “The plan is underway.”

Selvig nodded and disappeared around the door once again, leaving Natasha alone with her thoughts. She reached over and began shoving her feet into socks and boots, trying to shut out that stupid voice that persisted behind her eyes.

_Come home, come home, Natasha please._

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
Location Unknown_ **

Barton leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the computer’s table top, watching as Fury interrogated Loki. Rogers was at his side, a strange look on his face and his gloved hands clenched. The being who had broken Loki out of the jet earlier, who Barton now realised was Thor, was pacing across the bridge. Banner paced as well, this time behind Barton’s chair, looking much like a deer in the headlights.

On screen Fury moved towards Loki’s glass prison. “ _In case it’s unclear; you try to escape, you try to break out? You so much as scratch that glass and well . . .”_

The Director hit a button, the large red dangerous one that Barton was certain did not mean well for anyone and turned to smirk at his opponent. “ _Thirty thousand feet down in a steel trap. You get how that works?_ ” he asked. “ _Ant. Boot._ ”

Loki sneered. “ _An impressive cage, yes. Not built for me though, I wager?_ ”

“ _Built for something a hell of a lot stronger than you._ ”

Banner stiffened but otherwise did not react, returning to his pacing even when Loki went on to say; _“Oh the Widow told me. A mindless beast that makes play he’s still a man? How desperate are you that you would call on such lost creatures to defend you?_ ”

“ _How desperate am I?_ ” Fury snarled. “ _You threaten my world with war, you take one of my best agents hostage. You talk about peace and you kill for the fun of it. You have made me very desperate. Although,_ ” he added, crossing his arms. “ _You may not be glad you did_.”

 _“Ooh,”_ Loki said mockingly. _“It burns you to come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share, and then to be reminded what real power is.”_

 _“Well let me know if real power wants a magazine or something,_ ” Fury retorted, stalking away from the demi-god.

With that the screen went black, leaving their rag-tag group staring at a blank screen. Banner laughed mirthlessly, removing his glasses and rubbing at his eyes.

“He really grows on you doesn’t he?” the doctor asked.

Rogers just shook his head. “Loki’s going to want to drag this out,” he summarised. “Thor? What’s his play?”

The blonde Asgardian warrior turned back to them, seemingly snapping out of whatever thoughts had plagued him and pursed his lips. “All I know is that he has an army called the Chitauri. They are not of Asgard or any world known to me. He means to lead them against your people, in return I suspect for the Tesseract.”

“An army? From outer space?” Rogers didn’t look convinced and Barton couldn’t say he blamed the guy. He’d been on ice for decades and had woken up in a strange new world where aliens sought their destruction or survival, you could never be sure which.

“So that’s why he needed Erik Selvig,” Banner whistled, taking a tentative step forward.

“Selvig?” Thor asked.

“He’s an astrophysicist.”

“He’s a friend,” Thor corrected, suddenly looking very worried.

Barton got up and moved away from the table to stretch his legs. “Loki has him under some sort of spell, along with one of ours,” he said darkly.

_Natasha._

Rogers ignored the obvious tension in the room and looked to Banner. “I want to know why Loki let us take him. He’s not leading an army from here that’s for certain.”

“I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki,” Banner replied, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “That guy’s mind is a bag full of cats you can smell crazy on him from a mile away.”

“Have care how you speak,” the Asgardian growled, stepping forward menacingly. Barton slid between the demi-god and Banner with ease. “Move aside, agent, I need to remind you that Loki may be beyond reason but he _is_ of Asgard and he is my brother.”

“Easy there,” Barton said softly. “Your brother killed eighty people in two days and enslaved another three maybe more.”

Thor looked down at him with a stricken expression. “He’s adopted,” he mumbled, moving away.

“But what do they need iridium for,” Banner murmured. “It’s important enough for Romanoff to risk everything to steal it for Loki.”

“Well it is a stabilising agent,” a new voice called. Barton rolled his eyes, Stark had arrived. The man in question strutted onto the bridge, Coulson at one side and a smug smirk on his face. He turned to Coulson and murmured, “I’ll fly you there myself, keep the love going,” he said, clapping Coulson on the shoulder and turning back to the others. “Means the portal won’t collapse in on itself like it did before.”

“Stark . .” Barton started.

“No hard feelings point break,” Stark said to Thor, ignoring Barton. “You’ve got a mean swing. Also! It means the portal can stay open as long and as wide as Selvig and Loki want it to.”

“That’s all well and good but you’re forgetting someone,” Barton interrupted, glaring pointedly.

“Ah yes,” Stark dismissed with a flick of his wrist. “Our mutual friend will keep Agent Barton; once we’ve broken Loki we can worry about her. That man is playing Galaga!” he shouted, pointing at a young agent. “He thought we wouldn’t notice. But we did.”

“What about the rest of the materials?” Barton growled, crossing his arms.

“Romanoff can get her hands on them fairly easily. The only thing they’d struggle to find is a power source, something they could use to kick start the cube.”

Dr Banner chose that moment to speak up. “He’d have to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million degrees Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

“Unless Selvig figured out how to stabilise the quantum tunnelling effect,” Stark suggested.

“Well if he could do that he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor around the world.”

Barton exchanged a confused glance with Rogers, who looked as though he was drowning under strange new information. Thor didn’t understand or just didn’t care, although he expected it was the latter since the demi-god hadn’t stopped pacing since the conversation had lulled.

“Finally! Someone who speaks English,” Stark said dramatically, practically _bouncing_ over to Dr Banner like a kid in a candy shop. “It’s good to meet you Dr Banner. You’re work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. Awesome shit. I’m also a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

Barton wanted to punch something. Luckily for Stark, Fury chose that moment to sweep onto the bridge, his overlarge coat billowing behind him.

“Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube and you will be joining him,” the director warned. “Any thoughts?”

“I’d start with that stick of his. It might be magical but it works an awful lot like the HYDRA weapons used to,” Rogers piped up, drumming his fingers on the table top.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Fury reasoned. “But it certainly is powered by the cube. I’m more interested in how Loki used it turn one of my best scientists and the sharpest woman I know into his personal flying monkeys.”

“Monkeys?” Thor began. “I do not underst-”

“I do!” Rogers said excitedly. He caught the expression of hilarity on Stark’s face. “I understood that reference,” he muttered.

Barton turned on his heel and stalked away. He needed to get away from these people before he knocked himself out.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
Banner-Stark Lab;_ **

Inside the lab Bruce Banner shuffled about, gathering a strange electronic device and moving over to the stick, plugging the device in to power. He looked up at Stark from under his eyelashes warily, hunching into himself when the billionaire looked over at him. He hadn’t shared a lab with another human being for quite a few years, not since . . . not since Betty.

For a moment her face flashed before his mind’s eye, bright eyed and smiling face, laughter coming from her lips. An ache erupted in his chest, sending a wave of cold over his skin. He missed Betty, God he missed her. He wanted the old days back when he could hold her in his arms without fear of killing her, dance around the living room with her or simply curl up under a blanket with her and a cup of hot coffee.

“Dr Banner?” Stark questioned, clicking his fingers to get his attention.

“Ah yes,” Banner said, coughing to clear his throat and his head. “Well, the gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig’s reports on the Tesseract. It’s going to weeks to process though. Weeks we don’t really have.”

“If we bypass S.H.I.E.L.D’s mainframe and direct the reroute to the Homer cluster we can clock the whole thing at around six hundred teraflops, give or take.”

Banner chuckled. “All I packed was a tooth brush.”

“Oh you should come by STARK towers sometime. The top ten floors are all R and D. You’d love it. It’s my own personal Candy Land,” Stark said excitedly. “I’m telling you it . . .”

“Thanks,” Banner sighed. “But the last time I was in New York I kind of, you know, broke Harlem.”

“Well I promise a stress free environment,” Stark said, strolling around him. “No tension, no surprises.”

At that moment he jabbed an electrical prod into Banner’s stomach, causing the doctor to jump and yelp in pain. Of course, the doors hissed open and Rogers came bustling in, looking very disappointed.

“Are you nuts?” Rogers snapped.

“You’ve really got a lid on it haven’t you?” Stark mused, ignoring the Captain. “What’s your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed or a good porn site?”

“Is everything a joke to you?” Rogers asked hotly, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

“Funny things are!”

“Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn’t funny. No offence meant doctor.”

Banner coughed. “It’s okay Steve. I wouldn’t have come if I couldn’t handle . . . pointy things,” he laughed demurely. It had been a long time since anyone had even felt comfortable to joke around him. He’d missed it more than he cared to admit.

“You’re tiptoeing big man. You need to strut. Walk like a man who’s about to get the best sex of his life!”

“And you need to focus on the problem at hand Mr. Stark,” Rogers interrupted.

“You think I’m not?” Stark asked, an eyebrow rising. “Why did Fury call us and why now? Why not before? I can’t do the equation unless I have all the variables. Fury is a spy, he’s the spy Captain. His secrets have secrets. It’s bugging Banner too, isn’t it?”

He jumped at the mention of his name and hurried back to his work. “Ah, well,” he tried.

“Doctor?” Rogers said apprehensively.

“Loki’s taunt at Fury about the cube?” Banner sighed, laying down his glasses. “’A warm light for all mankind’? I think that was meant for Stark and his tower. Even if Romanoff didn’t tell Loki, it’s all over the news right now. It will run itself for at least a year right?”

“The Stark Tower? That big ugly building in New York?” Rogers said, uncaring of Stark’s expression.

“It’s just the prototype,” the man continued. “I’m kind of the only name in clean energy right now. Which is strange as to why S.H.I.E.L.D didn’t bring me in on the Tesseract project.”

Rogers looked as though he wanted to make a comment, presumably about Howard Stark. Banner wasn’t stupid, he had read the files and he knew that Rogers had known Howard in his younger days. He figured that the two would clash over their memories of Howard.

“That reminds me,” Stark mused. “I should probably look why they’re into the energy business once JARVIS finishes breaking into all of S.H.I.E.L.D’s secure files.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Rogers yelped.

“I’ve been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours I’ll know every dirty secret S.H.I.E.L.D has ever tried to hide from us. Now if you and your spangly outfit are quite finished taking up my time I have work to do,” he replied, waving the soldier away. 

“Loki’s trying to wind us up. He’s a man who means to start a war and if we break focus he’ll do just that. We have orders, we should follow them. Just find the damn cube.”

With that Rogers stalked out of the lab, a dark cloud over his rigid features. Banner watched him go, ignoring Stark’s babbling about how the Captain should have been kept on ice. His mind had been trying to work something over ever since S.H.I.E.L.D had sent Barton for him. The billionaire waved a hand in front of his face, catching his attention once more.

“Hulk got your tongue?”

“No,” Banner sighed, putting his glasses back on. “Just thinking about something.” 

“Or someone . . .” Stark corrected, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Just Barton’s behaviour since he collected me from India. What do you know about Agent Romanoff?”

Stark shrugged. “Not a whole lot. She doesn’t strike me as the type I’d like to know a whole lot about since she tried to break into Stark Industries,” he said. “Why?”

“I think  . . . never mind. It’s not our business.”

“Oh if it’s something like that then it so is!” Stark crowed. “Do you think archer-boy has a thing for redheaded death queen?”

“You’re nuts you know that?”

“Jury’s out.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning all! I have my last exam today! YIPEE~ Which means I can get to work on planning my next story hopefully. You all seem to enjoy this one thus far - I hope today's update is satisfactory for you all! Remember reviews are like cookies and I read and love each and every one of them! Now on to todays scheduled viewing!

**Parallax**

 

 

**_Budapest._ **

**_Seven years previous . ._ **

Clint Barton rolled out his neck, rubbing irritably at the knot that had formed in the juncture of his collar bone and checked his watch. It was long past midnight and whilst Romanova, curled up under the covers of his bed, slept semi-peacefully he was still wide awake in his chair. There had been a brief argument over who would take the bed but Barton had insisted she get some rest and that he could sleep later.

Now he sat watching her, counting each time her chest moved with her soft breathing and running his eyes over every red curl that fell over her face. In sleep she was just as beautiful and entrancing, he couldn’t stop watching her. Maybe it was because he knew what he would have to do. Killing her himself would make her death swift and painless compared to what those mobsters had in mind.

Barton had been twirling the syringe between his fingers for the past ten minutes, the bottle of lethal poison heavy in his pocket. They’d gotten too close for him to attempt anything but a poison. Should she overpower him he would find himself chasing her all over the world and then Fury might just kill him. So why hadn’t he just gotten up and done it already?

He shook himself roughly, trying to clear his head. It was no use focusing on the attraction he felt towards her. Things like that were null and void in the grand scheme of things. She was the Black Widow, notorious for sleeping with powerful men and women and then killing them. She worked for everyone and no-one. She was a shadow, a whisper in the night. A rumour. Until he had found her that is.

 _Fuck,_ he thought angrily, crushing the needle in his hand, snapping it with ease.

He couldn’t do it. There was something about her and it wasn’t her beauty. The way she carried herself and the way she had saved his God-damn life. She had barely known him and she had saved his life. He owed her a debt now, it was the way assassins worked. There was something that danced behind those dark eyes, something that leaked pain and fear. He had seen flashes of it but he knew it was there.

Barton was jolted into action when Romanova screamed. She began thrashing at the blankets and her screaming was getting louder and more panicked. He flew across the room to her side, hoisting himself up onto the bed and giving her a quick shake.

“Natalia,” he hissed, shaking her. “Wake up!”

She awoke suddenly and sat bolt upright, nearly collecting Barton on the way up as she did so. Her eyes shot open and she shoved herself away from him, taking the room in frantically. Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps and it was then that he noticed the small knife she had clenched in her small fist.

“Natalia,” Barton whispered. “Are you okay?”

She snarled wordlessly, pouncing on him and wrestling him to the bed. Barton grunted in shock as his back hit the mattress, Natalia swinging herself astride him and placing the blade to his jugular. He looked up at her in horror, where had this come from?!

Natalia’s eyes were blank and devoid of any emotion, her irises large. Her breasts heaved with the heavy breaths but her grip on the knife never wavered and never shook. It was then Barton realised that something was terribly, terribly wrong. He swallowed carefully and raised his hands over his head, showing them to be empty to her.

“Natalia, it’s Cyrus,” he breathed. “Your friend. It’s Cyrus. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The snarl on her face was contorted, making her look feral and out of control. Sweat beaded out on her forehead and Barton was trying very hard not to react to the fact that she was wearing nothing but a tightly fitting tank top and her underwear.

“Obey, kill, obey, kill,” Natalia was rattling. Her voice was laced with fear. “Serve the Red Room.”

Thinking quickly, Barton reached up and gently stroked his fingers down her cheek. He kept repeating the action, running his fingertips ever so slightly over her skin. Natalia looked shocked at the action, her eyebrows rising into her hair line and her mouth dropped open in the perfect ‘o’ shape. Barton just smiled gently at her and then cupped her cheek gently.

Then . . .

“Cyrus?” she asked wetly. “What? Oh my God,” she breathed, drawing the knife away from his throat to throw it to the floor with a clatter.

Barton exhaled loudly. That had been close. Natalia backed up, scrabbling into the furthest corner and drawing her knees up to her chin. She began to shake violently, looking absolutely terrified of what had nearly just happened. He sat up slowly, still keeping his hands where she could see them.

“Natalia, look at me,” he whispered.

“You need to leave,” she murmured, tears brimming in her eyes. They didn’t fall. “I mean it Cyrus. You need to leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s happening. Are you alright?”

“I just tried to kill you,” she snapped, losing her self-control. Her fingers gripped at her hair, burying themselves tightly into the red locks. “I could have murdered you and been none the wiser. It’s safer if we stay away from each other. I’ll leave. I’ll leave now.”

When she got up to run from him Barton reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her back against his chest. Natalia struggled against him briefly but when the soothing noises he was humming into her ear got deeper she stopped. Barton just hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

“Natalia, you were screaming. Talking about a ‘red room’. Did someone hurt you?” he asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you anything but that,” she told him. “I cannot talk about the Red Room. Please. Cyrus, please.”

“Okay.”

“I have red in my ledger. I’d like to wipe it out,” Natalia whispered simply, a minute later. Her shaking had subsided. “I will not be a puppet anymore. _Szar_ , why are you even still listening to this bullshit?

“You saved my life darling, I’ve got to pay you back for that,” he said, brushing the hair back from her forehead. “People like you and me, we have to stick together.”

She didn’t respond with her words. Instead Natalia Romanova got up on her knees and pressed her lips against his. The warmth of her skin, pressed flush against him and for reasons he didn’t understand, Barton found himself kissing her back. He quickly took control of the kiss, pressing his hand to the small of her back and tangling the other in her hair.

Natalia pushed him backwards, gently pushing him back into the covers and straddling him. Barton’s hands slid up under the tank, running his fingers over the smooth skin of her stomach. He flipped her over with ease, using his arms to catch her before she hit the mattress and lowered her gently beneath him.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
Fury’s Office . . ._ **

Nick Fury leant back in his high-backed chair and surveyed the person who sat across from him with a serious glare that he only reserved for people who truly irked him. Clint Barton wouldn’t look at him, preferring to fiddle aimlessly with a loose arrowhead. Here was a man who had been frustrating Fury for the better part of two weeks. Ever since Natasha disappeared off the radar, following the madman that was Loki.

Barton was an enigma to Fury. He could still remember when the man came to them as a young adult, a razor sharp tongue and an attitude as fiery as an open flame. Over the years, thanks particularly to Coulson, Barton had tamed his temper and his attitude. And then Natasha came into the picture. All of a sudden the Hawk reverted back to his old belligerent ways, going as far as to tell the Council to fuck off when they suggested terminating the Widow.

The shouting match had lasted two hours during which Hill and Coulson were forced to restrain the furious Barton. Fury remembered it as clearly as he could see Barton now, that snarky streak running through the simple glare on the agent’s face.

“This needs to stop,” Fury said finally. When Barton looked at him in question he gave him a pointed look. “I know what you’re doing Agent Barton and it ends as soon as you leave this office, am I understood?”

The Hawk set his jaw. “What have the Council said about Natasha?” he asked.

“I haven’t spoken to them yet, not that it should be any concern of yours.

“It is my concern,” Barton corrected mildly. He continued flipping the arrowhead, completely calm and under control. “Natasha has been and always be, my responsibility. Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I’m telling you now Fury if they want her terminated, I won’t have it.”

“I should throw you off this ship for even thinking of speaking to me like that,” Fury growled, leaning over the desk and interlacing his fingers. “I want you to tell me what is going on with you and the Widow. You will give me the truth Agent Barton or you’ll find yourself suspended  so fast, your God-damn head will spin.”

“We’re partners, that’s it.”

“Bullshit.”

“What the fuck do you want me to tell you Director?” Barton asked viciously, dropping the arrowhead into one of the pockets on his vest. “That she’s my best friend? That she’s one of the very few people that I actually trust? Or perhaps you want me to tell you something else?”

“I think you and I are both clever enough to know that’s a crock of shit!”

Barton run his tongue over his teeth and glared ferociously. Fury wanted to shoot something. He liked Barton; the man was clever and deadly with a bow and arrow. He was a powerful ally to have, a real pain in the ass sure but still very dangerous and powerful. He should have smacked the idiot upside the head by now. A moron could see that the Hawk and the Widow were more than ‘just’ friends or partners, despite all their denials.

It explained why Barton was reacting so badly to her disappearance.

“Whatever man,” Barton sighed, moving forward out of his seat. “I’ve got work to do so if you don’t mind. . ?”

“Sit. Down,” Fury growled, slamming his hand on the desk. “I don’t care why you do it, I don’t care how you do it but I want you back on your ‘a’ game and I want it done yesterday. If anyone will know how to find Agent Romanoff it’s you so I need you to be ready to go when we find her.”

Barton glowered. “Yes sir.”

“Now get of my office and get me an update on whether Banner and that resident pain in my ass Stark have made any headway,” Fury ordered, waving him away.

Once Barton had left the office, muttering swear words in Hungarian under his breath, Fury got to his feet and shook his head. Why did his subordinates always have to give him such a hard time? First Coulson decided to chum up with Stark, Romanoff liked to catch up with Potts for some girly breakfast thing every now and then and now Barton decided to fall in love with one of the most dangerous women in the world.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier. . .  
Meeting Room 5 . . ._ **

Phil Coulson took a great gulp of his morning coffee and massaged at his temples delicately. He had a splitting headache that was growing with the worry that gnawed at his intestines. He’d worked closely with Natasha Romanoff for many years and as such, like Barton, he found himself stricken with great concern for the assassin. Only Fury had seen what Loki had done to her and he had kept his lips firmly tightened regarding the matter.

Coulson doubted that Barton was taking it well.

The door hissed open and Maria Hill slipped over the threshold, looking very drawn and a healing wound carefully stitched onto her brow. Coulson greeted her with his mug in a silent salute and she dropped into the chair beside him. She, quite frankly, looked like hell.

Hill snagged his coffee mug and sipped at it gingerly, gagging when it hit her tongue.

“Fuck, Coulson what is in that?” she gasped.

“A shot of the finest whiskey I could get my hands on.”

“It’s not even midday,” Hill chastised, grabbing her own cup and filling it from the nearby jug. “Little early to be drinking isn’t it?”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Coulson reasoned, heaving a great sigh. He withdrew his hipflask from the inside jacket pocket and placed it on the table in between them. “One of the greatest lessons I ever learnt. Natasha . . .” he broke off awkwardly. “Natasha told me it was the mark of a good Russian.”

Hill looked at him quietly for a moment, then down into her coffee mug consideringly. After a moment she leaned forward, took up the hipflask and emptied a healthy amount of the amber liquid into her cup. She swilled the two liquids together and then drank deeply.

“Rumours have begun to spread,” Hill told him.

“I bet they have,” Coulson said heavily. He’d expected as much, particularly under the circumstances that Natasha joined S.H.I.E.L.D. “Who started the betting pool this time around?”

“No clue,” she replied honestly. “I saw her,” she admitted. “Romanoff. She wasn’t herself, Coulson. She looked at me, she saw me but it was like she was looking straight through me.”

“Asgardian magic.”

“That’s what the Director believes.”

The two agents shared a concerned look and broke the gaze seconds later. Coulson had never heard Hill speak of Natasha that way. The two women had never gotten along well but had rather tolerated each other. But the way Hill had spoken of Natasha now put Coulson in mind of the pity and concern that the female agent held for her comrade.

“What do you suppose Barton will do when the order comes down?” Hill asked hoarsely.

Coulson didn’t even have to ask what she meant. He turned to her, drained his tainted coffee and grimaced. “We’ll lose two agents then, not just one.”

~~~

**_Unknown Airfield . . .  
Romania . . ._ **

Natasha Romanoff wound her hair into a tight bun, securing it with several bobby pins. She drew the scarf about her neck and huddled into her leather jacket. All around her people moved about, marching themselves onto an unidentifiable aircraft, all of them carrying heavy artillery. This mission was very important, this Natasha knew without a shadow of a doubt. Selvig had his work to continue and now she had hers.

Loki was counting on her and she knew that if she succeeded he would reward her.

Smiling at the thought, the Widow moved forward and strode towards the opening of the aircraft. She cast her gaze over each member of her team, whom she had handpicked. As she met each of their eyes, all hooded and darkened, they nodded at her. Good. They were ready to go.

As she turned to go and discuss last minute flight details with the pilot the familiar voice burst into her head.

 _Natasha,_ it whispered, _Natasha, you’re not awake. Wake up!_

Ever since the voice had started whispering to her Natasha had been certain she knew the owner of the voice and yet . . . she could not place it. For the life of her she was certain she knew it. The voice was male and thick, rich with an American timbre. It felt warm and welcoming. More importantly, though she didn’t know why, it felt like home.

 _Shut up,_ she thought viciously. _Tell me who you are or shut up!_

 _You know me,_ the voice told her, _you’ve known me for a lifetime. You trust me._

Natasha rubbed at her forehead in irritation, continuing on her path to the cockpit. She slid inside the cabin, giving a nod to the pilot that they were ready for take-off. She couldn’t think of whom she might trust that absolutely. Apart from Loki, and maybe Selvig, she couldn’t place a name to anyone else. Loki was the only one she should trust and he was now counting on her to get him out of the rat nest.

 _Don’t trust him;_ the voice insisted angrily, _you can’t trust him Nat. You know it._

Who could she trust then? The answer appeared to be no-one. Even as the voice continued to nag at her brain it became more and more familiar. She shook off the voice with great difficulty and pulled on the headset, leaning back as the aircraft took off into the rising sun.

~~~

**_Pepper Potts Home,  
DC, WASHINGTON . . ._ **

Pepper wandered about her apartment, barefoot and wearing one of Tony’s jumpers that he’d left here the last time he’d visited her. She gathered the wool between her fingers and inhaled deeply, breathing in his familiar cologne. She worried for him. For all that Tony was brilliant and had the luck of thirteen leprechauns he also had a bad habit of leaping before looking. She loved him for it but God, she worried.

She had tried going to work but had annoyed her assistant so much that the harried man had sent her home. Happy had been only too pleased to drive her home and they had eaten Chinese for dinner and reminisced about some of Tony’s crazier moments.

“I wouldn’t worry about him doll,” Happy had said cheerfully. “Tony’s got a way of turning things in his favour. Don’t worry about ‘im, you’ll put grey hairs in that beautiful head of yours.”

Now Pepper was alone, a lone cup of tea slowly going cold on her bedside table. Eventually, having given up on pacing, she dropped onto her bed and flopped over onto her side, hugging a pillow to her chest. Part of her wanted to return to New York at the double. The robots were there and they reminded her of Tony, they’d certainly be better company than her horrendously empty apartment.

Just as she was about to drop off to sleep the mobile on her table vibrated loudly and she jumped up, scrabbling for the device. She grinned and answered it within the next ring.

“Tony!” she cried. “How are you? Is it amazing? Who else have they got there? Have you found Natasha yet?”

“ _Woah there Speedy Gonzales,_ ” Tony replied, laughing heartily. “ _I’m fine. It’s averagely awesome. No we haven’t found the spider yet. As for Fury’s supposed dream team, I’m not as impressed. I seem to be one of the few who actually has character._ ”

Pepper couldn’t stop the eye roll that came forth but she was smiling fondly all the while. “I think you’re confusing character with ego there, Tony.”

“ _Okay, ouch. That hurts babe!”_

“You’ll get over it,” she said sweetly. “So are you going to tell me who the other Avengers are or am I going to have to ring Phil?”

“ _I keep telling you that Coulson’s first name is Agent,_ ” Tony sighed. “ _Well there’s the walking talking time machine Rogers. I still don’t understand why my father had such a hard on for the guy, he’s a righteous . . .”_

“Tony!”

“ _Fine. Sorry. So there’s him. Then there’s the half-brother of our arch nemesis, Thor I think his name is. Demi-god or some shit like that. Bruce Banner, you know, the Hulk? He’s here and he’s freaking amazing Pep! I’m telling you baby, his mind is absolutely beautiful. I’ve already invited him to stay over after all this is cleaned up!”_

“I’ll think about it,” Pepper laughed.

“ _And then there’s the resident grouchy bird. Hawkeye I think Coulson called him? No clue what his deal is, although I think the spider has worked with him before. They seem to be chums but Bruce and I reckon he has a hard on for her,”_ Tony babbled.

“I think you need to stay out of it. His name is Clint Barton, by the way. Natasha told me about him once or twice. Either way he may be helpful in helping you find her,” she said. Her eyes went sad. “Tony, please, you have to find her. She’s trapped in her own mind if what I hear is true. She’s probably scared and alone right now.”

“ _Relax babe, I’ll find Insy Winsy Spider and clear out whatever cobwebs are clogging her pipes. Now, how’s DC?”_

 

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defence it is still Thursday, granted its late-ish but still . . . here it is~!  
> In this chapter you will find the long awaited confrontation between Loki and Hawkeye - I had a little too much trouble writing this I'm not entirely certain I've captured him correctly. I'm also hoping that we may get a sequel to this tale, perhaps delving into some things I've brought up in this chapter. Any thoughts?

**Parallax**

 

 

**_Budapest._ **

**_Seven years previous . ._ **

Clint Barton had a very serious problem. A beautiful, petite, _sexy_ problem. And that problem was currently curled up into his side, her head on his chest and they were both naked. When he had fully awoken and realised that had happened Barton’s very first reaction had been to panic. He was supposed to kill her! Not sleep with her! Two opposite ends of the spectrum! Coulson was going to have his hide, not to mention what Fury was going to do!

After a few moments (and several deep calming breaths), Barton reassessed the situation. He was still alive, a miraculous thing since he had screwed the Black Widow. She was also still alive. Very much alive and warm, her breasts pushing lightly against his rib cage and damn if Barton didn’t feel very comfortable where he was. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes, internally lamenting his own stupidity.

 _You’re too close,_ he thought desperately. _You’re too close to her, you idiot. You have to take her out just like the orders stated! You cannot, I repeat, cannot get attached to this woman. She’s going to spit you out and leave your bones for the winds._

Somehow, Barton was feeling less and less inclined to believe that Natalia was actually a threat. A new theory was forming in his head and he didn’t like it one bit.

With a sigh he gently removed her from his side and rolled out of bed, drawing the covers up to cover her sleeping form. She had calmed down a great deal from the incident of last night so he wanted her to get as much rest as possible. He scrambled for his underwear and pants, slipping into them before he moved to the window, staring down into the quiet street below.

His mobile vibrated on the side table and he grabbed it before it could wake Natalia, bringing it up to eye level. He almost considered throwing it out the window when he saw the contents. Three missed calls from Coulson and one text.

 **Message Received.  
Sender: **_P.C_ ****  
Text: _How’s the weather there? Hopefully you aren’t caught in that terrible storm. Ma is worrying about you. Please call home to calm her down._

Barton sent back a speedy reply, outlining that he was handling things and that he was laying low until he could make his next move. Just as he hit send and slid the phone back into his pocket, the woman in his bed stirred and sat up, bringing the sheets with her to cover her body.

“Morning,” he greeted lazily, not turning around.

“Hi.”

Barton turned and watched her. She looked slightly grumpy today but there was an angelic glow about her skin. A beauty that glittered in the sunlight and Barton wanted to punch himself because when did he start becoming a fucking sap?

“Do you want to talk about last night?” he settled for.

“Do you?” she countered, running her fingers through her hair and fixing him with an intense gaze. “Or are you scared of me? You look like I’m going to eat you.”

“I’ve had a string of failed romantic relationships,” he shrugged. “Let’s just say I expect the worst that way I get to be pleasantly surprised.”

Natalia laughed at that, a low sound that sent a warm shiver up his spine. “I’d love to stay here for a repeat of last night’s activities,” she purred. “But they’re going to find us if we stay here much longer.”

Barton nodded. “I know. I was just debating what our next move would be.”

“If we can freeze their bank accounts and leave a trail that gets the authorities onto them we may be able to shirk them off our trail. It will give us enough time to escape into Russia or maybe the Ukraine. Life on the run isn’t exactly glamorous but it’s better than being dead.”

There would be no escape into Russia or Ukraine, this Barton knew. He would have to kill her and soon. At the thought, his stomach churned but he tried to ignore it. The first part of her plan sounded tight and he nodded, moving to grab his pre-packed bags, the one with his bow and the other his clothes.

“We best get moving then,” he said. “Got any ideas on how to go about freezing their bank accounts?”

When she smiled Barton saw the Widow shining through her eyes. “Oh I can think of a few things,” she laughed, going for her clothes.

~~~

**_Science Lab 34, University of Virginia  
VIRGINIA_ **

The steady beeping of a machine filled the room, providing a steady rhythm to keep the pretty young scientist focused on the task at hand. The large stack of student exam papers on her left glared ominously at her and she huffed in irritation, brushing at a stray strand of dark hair that fell over her eyes. At her left elbow sat a steaming mug of tea, herbal with a hit of sugar.

Elizabeth ‘Betty’ Ross inhaled deeply and massaged the bridge of her nose with the tip of her pen. It had been a long, painful week with the following week not looking to be much better. She had just scrawled a red grade on the top left corner of the paper and was about to move on when her office phone rang.

“Dr. Ross,” she answered with a yawn, pressing the handset between her shoulder and ear.

“ _Doctor, this Agent Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D, I need you to do something for me and I need done as quickly as possible,_ ”

Betty’s eyes narrowed. “I am not currently aware of Bruce Banner’s location and even if I was, _agent,_ I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you. I have told your agency that I am not interested in helping you destroy Bruce.”

“ _I’m sure Dr Banner appreciates you having his back but right now he needs you to calibrate your universities’ spectrometer for gamma rays._ ”

The female choked on her tea, slamming the cup down in her shock. “Bruce is helping you?” she gasped.

“ _That is what I just implied. Yes he has agreed to help us on a matter of extreme urgency and he was rather hoping you could do the same,”_ Agent Coulson said sharply. “ _Just calibrate the spectrometer for us and we’ll be in touch.”_

“I want to talk to him!”

“ _I’m really very sorry ma’am but that’s not possible right now. I’ll have him give you a call when it’s possible.”_

Then there was nothing but dial tone. Betty stared at the handset in disbelief and then dropped it back onto her desk. What on Earth could have compelled Bruce to go towards the people he was running from? It didn’t make any sense. Had her father threatened him? Doubtful, the last she’d heard from him he was deep underground in the Middle East.

Betty leaned back in her chair, covering her face with her hands. Her round shoulders began to shake as she cried, sobbing into her hands and releasing all the frustration and sadness that swirled around inside her. It was in that moment that Bruce’s absence hit her like a freight train. She missed him and the hole in her heart that he had taken grew wider with each passing day.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
Banner Prison Cell . . ._ **

“There are not many people that can sneak up on me,” Loki purred.

Barton stepped out of the shadows, hands in his pockets and his face carefully blank. He didn’t speak, just kept walking towards the imprisoned Asgardian. This was him. This was the man who had taken Natasha and had pissed off the Hawk. Barton’s thoughts were screaming for blood, preferably Loki’s but he knew all too well that a man like Loki wouldn’t break under torture. He stopped just inches from the glass and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Except perhaps your pretty little redheaded friend,” Loki continued, crossing his legs and smiling wickedly at him. “I must enquire where you and your lackeys managed to find such a fine specimen. She is truly magnificent, a true killer who is unafraid of her art.”    

“I want to know what you did to Agent Romanoff. I want to know where she is and how to reverse whatever you did to her,” Barton instructed, his arms folded across his chest.

Loki got to his feet, as graceful as a large cat and slinked towards him. With his teeth bared in a feral smile and his sleek dark hair in a complete mess he looked dangerous and definitely not someone that you wanted to be messing with. Well, Barton had never really paid attention to what he should and shouldn’t do. When Loki reached the glass he rapped his fingernails against it, laughing under his breath.

“How do you know she didn’t come to me of her own free will?” the demi-god asked.

“You don’t know her like I do. We’ve saved each other’s skins more times than I can count. You think because you poke her with your magic stick you get to keep her? Think again.”

“Interesting that a man such as yourself is here. You work for an agency that once asked you to kill her. Tell me, have they given the order yet? Or are they waiting for when she inevitably kills someone close to them?” Loki sneered. “There’s a history with you and my Widow, I wager.”

Barton frowned at the mention of the order. He knew it was coming. The Council was bound to be talking about it. Natasha Romanoff was compromised. S.H.I.E.L.D wasn’t in the business of protecting assets who had once been threats. If they didn’t give him the order they would definitely give it to someone else. Someone who would have no issue carrying out the deed.

“Oh,” Loki whispered. “Did I hit a nerve? You love her,” he cackled, rubbing his hands together with glee. “Oh, it’s so obvious now. You love her.”

“Love is for children,” Barton said, his mouth dry and stumbling over Natasha’s words. She’d repeated them enough times to know better. “She owes me a debt and I owe her my life. That’s it.”

He could remember the first time he’d heard her say those words. _Love is for children. **Love is for children.**_ He’d felt ill for days, he’d wandered around in a cold sweat. Love is for children. She had never really believed in love. Not really. No one had ever given Natasha Romanoff a reason to. He’d wanted to though. He’d wanted to take her into his arms and show her what love was meant to be.

But how could he? When she disabused all ideas of love and he? Was he even capable of loving anyone with what he had done?

“Tell me Agent Barton, why does she owe you a debt?”

Barton swallowed hard, stepping back from the glass to lean against a nearby railing. He wouldn’t meet Loki’s eyes and instead drew out the arrowhead, tossing it into the air and catching it. After he repeated the action several times he sighed, grimaced tightly and faced Loki once again.

“Before I worked for S.H.I.E.L.D I was nobody,” Barton admitted. “My parents had died in car crash when I was eight. It was me and my little brother Bernard, he was only five. We stayed in an orphanage for a while but eventually, as all young boys do, we wanted something better. We ran away and joined a circus.”

Loki raised his eyebrows and gestured with his hand, prompting Barton to continue. The Hawk ran his tongue over his drying lips and ploughed forward.

“Two men, known about the circus as Swordsman and Trickshot took me under their wing. They taught me how to fight and they taught me how to wield my best weapon,” he said. “Like an idiot I believed that through them I could have a brilliant life. I was wrong. One day I walked in on Swordsman. He was counting the money he had stolen from the circus owners.

“He wanted me to go into a criminal partnership with him. He told me that we could be something great, somebody for people to fear. I realised very quickly that it wasn’t the life I wanted. I wanted a good life for me and Bernard and I certainly wasn’t interested in gaining it the way Swordsman wanted to.”

Swordsman was a stocky man who regularly doused himself in foul stanching cologne. Barton could remember the waxy skinned man and his heavy Boston accent. That sword that had been used in so many amazing performances, that a young Clint had admired from afar with awe and wonder, was suddenly turned against him. He could remember the cruel smile that spread underneath his mentor’s moustache and a shiver passed over his forearms.

“When I refused to help him he attacked. He nearly cut me to shreds and left me to bleed on the floor. I’ve still got the scars on my back and chest. I nearly died that night and when I came to . . . Swordsman had escaped. To make matters worse my little brother, the only person I cared about, grew to hate me. He blamed me for our terrible living conditions and told me I was stupid for refusing Swordsman. He had no idea of the world but he hated me. Still does.”

“Some people rarely understand how the world works. I knew someone very similar,” Loki simpered.

“Trickshot took pity on me and continued training me, he complimented my skills. In my mind maybe I’d finally found someone who understood me. I was delusional I guess. One night he convinced me to help him track down a criminal known as Marko. When we were fighting his lackeys I took down one of the smaller ones with an arrow to the kneecap. It was Bernard,” Barton shuddered.

The look on his baby brother’s face still haunted Barton to this very day. It woke him at night in cold sweats and left him screaming and thrashing. Bernard, he had been sixteen at the time, still a kid who had no clue what a rifle did let alone how to fire before an enemy. When both their masks were removed the pure look of hatred that had crossed Bernard’s eyes was like a knife to Clint’s heart.

_“I didn’t know!” he screamed. “Bernard, you fucking idiot! I didn’t know!”_

_“Fuck off . . .” Bernard managed to rasp, grasping at his bleeding leg. “Fuck off and leave me alone. I have no brother you understand? Not anymore.”_

“After that I ran. As far and as fast as I could. I thought if I ran far enough I’d be able to forget Bernard’s screams of agony and the look on his face when he realised who had shot him. I hitched a ride on the highway and landed in New York of all places. I was nineteen and for six months I slept under parked cars and abandoned buildings. Then one day I decided I was going to break into the Stark mansion for some extra food and cash.”

Howard Stark had been drinking heavily when he first discovered Barton going through his wife’s jewellery box. Barton could remember each of the lines on his face and the man had been muttering about soldiers and gunfire when he finally noticed the teenager. The police had been called and Clint had ended up in a cell overnight, freezing to death. Months later Howard and his wife were reported as having passed on from a fatal car accident, leaving behind their son Tony.

“I broke out of the police station where I had been arrested for stealing using my bow and some bed sheets. I got two kilometres before S.H.I.E.L.D was swarming all over the place. They had read my file and found some footage of my work in the circus. I was offered a place amongst their ranks in return for the erasing of my record. I accepted.”

“I rather think your employers would just hand you that without expecting something in return,” Loki mused softly.

“Yeah,” Barton growled, wrapping his fingers around the arrowhead and clenching his fist. “There was a catch. Although at the time it was fine. I didn’t question it. I was alive, I was healthy and for once, I had a stable place. Killing people for them didn’t seem that high a price to pay, especially since most of the people I took out were blights against society – people who were a threat. And then I met her.”

Budapest. That was where everything had changed. His life had been thrown into the blender and he’d reacted in the worst way. He was lucky to be alive after flaunting every protocol that S.H.I.E.L.D had in place. But when he’d seen Natasha at her very worst and her very best he’d known. In that instant he’d known that he couldn’t kill her. They had only known each other for a few months but Barton had been certain that she was the only woman for him, the only one he would ever want.

(It turned out later that he would go on to date a string of other women but never for more than a few months and as soon as Natasha found out he would end things).

“I met Natasha and I met someone who was exactly like me. We both had a past we were ashamed of. Unlike me though, she hadn’t been given a second chance to change her life. I was ordered to kill her, she was a liability to S.H.I.E.L.D and if they wanted her dead then I had to do the job. I chickened out after she found out who I really was. I managed to convince the Council that she wouldn’t betray us if they guaranteed her safety.”

“And now here you are. Without her. Do you miss her Agent Barton?” Loki asked. He hurried on without giving Barton a chance to answer. “I like you. The fate of your world hangs in the balance and you come to me with your story so you can bargain for the life of one woman.”

“I’ve helped topple several regimes in my lifetime, I won’t mourn this one too long trust me.”

“What do you want Agent Barton?”

The archer pushed off the railing, sliding the arrowhead into his pocket to sigh contemplatively. “No point in making the situation more complicated than that. She’s got red in her ledger; I promised I’d help her wipe it out.”

 Loki chuckled. “Can you help her? Can she wipe out that much red? Sao Paulo, the hospital fire and Drakov’s daughter? Don’t look so surprised Barton, she told me everything. With your record, I doubt it,” he crowed. “The bombings in Israel, the abduction of three school boys in Miami and Trickshot’s death? I did warn you she told me everything.”

Barton clenched his teeth. He’d suspected Natasha might have revealed some things to Loki but his secrets that he’d personally confided to her? That was low.

“Her ledger is gushing red!” Loki cried. “You think saving her will make up for the assault you inflicted on your own brother? Saving a woman no virtuous than yourself because you think saving her will fix your flaws. This is a child Agent Barton. Pathetic!”

His plan to save Natasha had been working fine until Loki stepped in and screwed everything up. Barton remained silent, listening to Loki’s tirade. He had promised her and God-damn he would fulfil his promise. Because she was his friend and that was what friends did for each other. He didn’t expect her heart. He didn’t suppose she would ever willingly give that to anyone.

“You lie and kill, in the service of liars and killers! You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away! That is all the help I will give _you,_ Agent Barton.” Loki snarled, turning on his heel and stalking back to the bench in his cell.

“And Natasha?” Barton asked, forcing down the hopeful tone.

“Oh don’t you worry. I won’t touch the Widow. Not yet,” Loki sneered. “Not until I make her kill you. In the slowest, most painful way she knows. In every way that she knows you fear. Then when she wakes long enough to understand she killed the only man who ever truly loved her and screams, I’ll rip her heart out of her chest!”

Barton’s heart was hammering against his chest. So, Natasha was that far gone into his mind control? She would try to kill him? Sweat trickled down his temples and his hands shook by his sides as he tried to stamp down on the rage that was making his blood boil, painting his vision red.

“You’re a sick fuck you know that?” he asked shakily.

“I’ve been called worse,” Loki shrugged. “I’m the monster of my home, Agent Barton.”

“No complaints here.”

“And yet your director brought one on board. Strange how men in power behave so similarly isn’t it?”

Barton paused in his movement of turning away. He grinned and flipped the arrowhead into his hand once more. He turned back to smirk triumphantly at the demi-god, even going as far to give him a flirtatious wink.

“So that’s it? Banner is your play?” he asked. “Thank you for your co-operation.”

He hurried away from the shocked Loki, putting a hand up to his ear piece to communicate with Fury. “Loki means to unleash the Hulk. Keep Banner in the lab until I get there and send Thor too.”

~~~


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are with the next update ~   
> Hope you are enjoying the story so far, any comments on this story would be really welcome!

 

**Parallax**

 

 

**_Budapest._ **

**_Seven years previous . ._ **

It turned out that Natalia’s bright idea is to break into a bank. A fucking bank. Statically one of the worst ideas that Barton has heard all year and he spent six months under Agent May’s training in the Maldives. Worst holiday ever. But when she had cleverly pointed out that they only needed access to the bank’s mainframe and they could do that holed up in the basement away from prying eyes he relented.

It didn’t help that she had asked him about the scars only seconds later, a concerned sparkle in her beautiful eyes. They had been waiting for the elevator in the hotel at the time and he hadn’t reacted well.

“Were you tortured?” she asked quietly. At his confused glance she gestured up and down his body with a finger. “The scars on your back and chest. I saw them, felt them last night but if I’d said anything I might have ruined the mood.”

Barton felt as though someone had slipped an ice cube down his shirt. He swallowed and looked away pointedly. He hadn’t told anyone about the scars, not Coulson, nor May or that kid Ward. Only Fury had the full story and even then Barton had deliberately edited it to fit his needs.

“Tortured was putting it mildly,” he admitted hoarsely, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It hurt like a bitch and I thought I was going to die. It was a _katana,_ a proper Japanese weapon. Sharp as all get out and it cut through my skin like it was butter.”

“Who did it to you?”

“Someone I should never have trusted,” he replied, stalking into the elevator when the doors slid open. “I lost everything because of him.”

Natalia slid close to him and kissed him, her hands on his face. The kiss was sweet and compassionate, a desperate contrast to the demanding, heated kisses they’d shared only a few hours ago. When she’d pulled away Barton was left blinking down at her like a fool.

Now, as he followed her through the bank’s upper floors, the deep sense of foreboding that had nestled itself inside his heart nagged at him. Barton knew that once they had done the job they’d came to do her time would be up and he would have to do the deed. So why was it so fucking difficult? He’d slept with targets before! Why was Natalia Romanova so different?

The image her file painted was nothing compared to the version he was seeing of her now. Though she was still brisk and to the point she had ultimately gone out of her way to show him that she cared as well as risking her life to save his own. Nothing was adding up and the situation was getting more dangerous the longer he put it off.

“There,” Natalia said, pointing to a door that had been left ajar. From within the darkened depths he could just spy two large computers and a single chair.

They slipped inside, closing the door behind them silently and Natalia sat down, diving straight into the work she had assigned herself. Barton planted himself by the door, acting as a lookout for any passers-by. He doubted they would be interrupted, they’d chosen the floor the furthest away from the main area of the bank.

“Oh this is too easy,” Natalia commented under her breath. “Some banks scare me with how little value they place on their security.”

“Probably someone’s ego getting the best of him,” Barton added. He ran his fingers over the handgun at his side, anxiety building as the seconds ticked by.

He should have slid the gun from its holster. He should have fired it then and there, he could have finished the work himself. He should have, he should have, he should have . . . This whole mission was one big should have and Barton was tired. So tired of pretending. He would have to tell her the truth. He knew it now. He wasn’t going to be able to pull the trigger.

He could get her a second chance with S.H.I.E.L.D. If they let him take her on as his responsibility then they should have no problem. If they did well he would just have to threaten to leave. Simple.

“Done!” Natalia pronounced. “Just give me a second and we can be gone from here.”

Barton moved over behind the chair to watch as she logged out. Just as she was about to turn off the computer an email notification popped up on the screen. The two spies frowned. Particularly when they realised that the email was entitled, _for Black Widow._ A part of Barton’s brain tingled, a small warning but he couldn’t stop Natalia from moving the mouse and opening the email.

 _Darling Widow,_  
Thought you might find the attached file interesting.  
Eszter. 

When Natalia opened the attachment everything changed. Barton’s jaw dropped. It was his S.H.I.E.L.D personnel file. It was his file, he didn’t know how it was possible but it was there in black and white with his photo for Natalia to see. And she was seeing it alright, her eyes flicking over the screen rapidly as her skin paled under his stare. She had realised what was happening. The Widow had been played.

**Agent ID: _CLINT BARTON.  
_ Alias: _HAWKEYE_**

She stood up quickly and violently, the chair toppled to the floor at her feet. She backed away from him, pressing her back against the wall and aiming her gun at him. He responded in kind, staring at her sadly.

“You son of a bitch,” she snarled. “A fucking S.H.I.E.L.D agent? They sent you to kill me?”

“What are you most angry about darling?” he asked. “The fact that I’m not who I said I was or the fact that you got played? Beaten at your own game?”

“I’m not beaten till I’m dead,” Natalia retorted. Her eyes were bright with anger and he could see the tears forming. They wouldn’t fall; she would never allow them too. “I can’t believe you used me like that.”

“You kissed me first. I admit I never tried to tell you the truth. But listen to me very carefully Natalia.”

“I don’t want to hear any more of the shit that comes out of your mouth when it’s clearly all lies!” she shouted. Her hands shook slightly. “I saved your life and this is how you repay me?”

“Last night wasn’t a lie darling. I swear on my life. That was all me, the real me. Natalia, I can get you out of this,” Barton reasoned. “My real name is Clint Barton, I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. Yes they sent me to kill you but I won’t do it. I can’t.”

“Coward!”

“No. Just someone who believes in second chances. I can get you a new life.”

“Working for the American government like their pet dog?” Natalia hissed, pulling back the safety. She stepped forward delicately. “I’ve worked for governments Agent Barton and trust me; I won’t be doing it ever again. They’re all the same, all corrupt mindless machines.”

“But I’d be there, for you and for us. Just give me a chance to explain.”

“There is no us,” Natalia whispered, her voice cracking. “I thought I could trust someone for the first time in my life. I was mistaken. There will never be an ‘us’. Love is for children and I don’t want any part of that you hear me?”

That was the moment that Barton knew. He was in way too deep. The last thing he heard was the sound of a gunshot.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier . . .  
Unknown Location . . ._ **

Captain Steve Rogers was pissed – to put it simply at least. He hadn’t been this angry with another person since the war, when he’d been told that Bucky and his men had been left to die in a German stronghold. The soldier ruthlessly shoved the memories of his long dead friend away and stalked through the Helicarrier, a storm cloud of anger over his chiselled features and an odd weapon clenched in his gloved fists. Fury had _a lot_ of explaining to do. And Coulson, because Rogers was sure that the man was high enough up to know what was happening.

A HYDRA weapon. S.H.I.E.L.D was creating HYDRA weapons. The knowledge burned Rogers’ throat and the weapon felt like lead in his hand. With each step that carried him towards Banner and Stark’s lab his fury built, especially since he knew Stark was well within rights to scream ‘I told you so’. The fact that the weapons had been hidden deep in the bowels of the Helicarrier proved that Fury had been hiding them for a reason.

As he neared the lab Rogers could just hear the tail end of what sounded like an argument. He paused and pressed himself against a nearby wall, listening intently to what was being said. It appeared that Fury was arguing with Stark and Banner, their voices still quite low despite Rogers being able to clearly hear them.

“What are you doing Mr. Stark?” Fury asked, his voice tight with tension.

“Uh,” Stark said dramatically. “I’ve been kind of wondering the same thing about you.”

“You’re _supposed_ to be locating the Tesseract.”

“We are. The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now,” Banner piped up. He sounded a little cautious, as though trying to avoid any direct conflict. “When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile”

“Yeah. You’ll get your cube back, Nick. No muss, no fuss,” Stark yawned. When he next spoke there was an air of intrigue and concern. “What is phase two?” he asked.

Rogers pursed his lips and strode through the door, throwing the HYDRA weapon onto the table as though it had burned him. “Phase two is S.H.I.E.L.D uses the cube to make weapons,” he spat and turned to Stark. “Sorry, the computer was working too slow for me.”

“Rogers we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean . . .” Fury tried.

“I’m sorry Nick,” Stark called, twisting the computer screen around to reveal weapons blueprints. “What, were you lying?”

“I was wrong, Director. The world hasn’t changed one bit,” Rogers said, glaring at Fury.

The only thing he could think about was the look on Bucky’s face as he fell into the snowy abyss, screaming in fear. Fear, the only thing he could see in Bucky’s eyes. HYDRA had tortured him for days on end, injecting him with toxins and testing the weapons on him. When Rogers had finally found him he had found only a shell of the man he’d called his best friend.

And now this . . . Rogers shook his head, driving away Bucky’s screams.

At that moment Barton and Thor came barrelling through the door, the latter looking suddenly very concerned. It was as though the demi-god could physically sense the tension in the room. Barton, on the other hand, either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He simply made a beeline for Banner’s side, a wary look in his eyes as he approached the scientist.

“Did you know about this?” Banner asked him tightly. There was something strange flickering in those brown eyes.

Barton didn’t answer but his eyes flickered between the weapon on the table and the blueprints on the screen. “You want to think about removing yourself from this situation, doctor?” he said.

The laugh that echoed from Banner was hollow and dark. “I was in Calcutta,” he said mournfully. “I was pretty well removed!”

“Loki is manipulating your emotions,” Barton warned, spreading his hands out in front of him.

“And you’ve been doing what exactly?”

“You didn’t come here because I thrust my man junk at you!” Barton snapped, his temper flaring.

“Yes, and I’m not leaving because you all suddenly decide to get a little twitchy. I’d like to know exactly why S.H.I.E.L.D is planning on using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction!” Banner demanded. “I ran from General Ross and you guys to avoid this very thing!”

“Because of him!” Fury growled suddenly, thrusting a hand out to point at Thor.

The blonde Asgardian looked dumbfounded. “Me? I do not understand.”

Fury began to pace, waving his arms about wildly and Rogers was suddenly very reminded of the Colonel. “Last year Earth had a visitor from another planet. His grudge and hatred levelled a small town,” he explained. “We learned that not only are we not alone in this universe but we are hopelessly and hilariously outgunned.”

“My people want nothing but peace with your planet,” Thor continued, still looking very confused.

“But you’re not the only people out there are you? So, ergo, you’re not the only threat. The world’s filling up with people who can’t be matched. They can’t be controlled!”

Rogers stepped forward, shaking his head. “Like you controlled the cube?”

America was about freedom and respecting your fellow man. This, as far as he was concerned, was not freedom. Fury and the Colonel. Their faces overlapped inside his head, blurring at the edges as they became one person. Single minded and determined. Peggy’s screams began to wail in his ears and he rubbed at them in irritation.

“You’re work with the Tesseract is what drew my brother to it and his allies!” Thor was saying. He no longer looked confused but very, very angry. “It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war. One you cannot hope to match!”

“A higher form?”

What could be worse than Asgardians?

~~~

**_Unidentified Aircraft . . ._ **

The Widow sat crouched at the edge of the aircraft’s precipice, a snipers rifle in her tiny hands. They were getting closer and closer to the Helicarrier. Despite the shields being up to hide them from her gaze the Widow had enough training with S.H.I.E.L.D to know how to pick the Helicarrier from the air. She smirked at their arrogance, they were still run by men. Typical male arrogance.

She crouched down low, raised her rifle and waited for the order.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier . . .  
Banner/Stark Lab . . ._ **

The animosity in the room was really beginning to grate on Barton’s nerves. Banner seemed very unwilling to cooperate and to listen to what Barton had been trying tell him about Loki’s plan. In fact no one really seemed interested in what he had to say, they were more interested in arguing with Fury about phase two. The Hawk had never been keen on phase two, in fact he quite agreed with Natasha’s assessment on the whole thing.

_“A pain in the ass and not at all nesecarry. Train your agents better and the only weapons they will need will be their bodies.”_

No point telling the others that, if he could even be heard over the arguing men. Barton narrowed his eyes at Fury. As far as he was concerned this was his fault. If he’d just let him go hunting Natasha the way he’d wanted to none of this would be happening. She knew how to diffuse arguments faster than anyone he knew. His tongue wouldn’t move to speak, the tension rolling off Banner in torrid waves stilled his speech and Barton was suddenly very aware that things could get pretty messy if they weren’t careful.

“You forced our hand,” Fury was telling Thor. “We had to come up with something or else . . .”

“A nuclear deterrent,” Stark finished. A knowing gleam was in those dark eyes. “Because that calms everything right down doesn’t it?”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?”

“I’m sure if he still made weapons Stark would be neck deep in this crap,” Rogers growled, stepping forward menacingly.

“Wait a second! Hold on! How is this now about me?” the billionaire yelped.

“I’m sorry isn’t everything?”

Thor was bristling, his golden hair alive with static and his hands were curling and uncurling into fists. “I thought humans were more evolved than this. Clearly I was mistaken,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Excuse me?” Fury barked. “Do we come to _your_ planet and blow things to smithereens?”

“Yet you treat your champions with such mistrust! How can you expect them to fight for you when you do not respect them!?”

Barton rolled his eyes and tried to step in between the fray. It was high time this bickering came to an end, he had a royal headache coming on and he could feel Loki’s stick emitting some kind of strange energy that made his skin crawl.

“Are you really that naïve guys?” he said loudly. “S.H.I.E.L.D monitors threats alright? Now I didn’t know about phase two but arguing about it isn’t going to . . .”

“Wait, Captain America is on a potential threat watch list?” Banner asked, incredulous.

“We all are,” Barton corrected. “I was. Probably still am.”

Stark and Rogers weren’t listening. They were too busy staring each other down like two alpha wolves, their hackles raised. “You’re on that list?” Stark mocked. “Are you above or below killer bees? Ooh threatening! I feel threatened!”

“I swear to God, Stark one more crack and I’m going to acquaint you with a friend you really need to make. She’s called my boot up your . . .”

Meanwhile Thor and Fury were glaring at each other, stuck at loggerheads. Barton could see the tension between them; it had been building ever since Fury had asked the demi-god to torture his brother for information regarding the Tesseract. He was sure the shit was going to hit the fan at any moment now.

“You speak of control and yet you create chaos!” Thor rumbled. “Now who is the trickster?”

“It’s his MO isn’t it?” Banner said dryly. His shoulders were shaking with rage, he was barely holding onto his self-control and Barton was starting to get very worried. “I mean what are we? A team? No, no, no! We’re a chemical mixture that creates chaos. We’re a ticking time-bomb waiting to explode!”

“Doctor . . .” Barton began.

“You need to step away,” Fury said. His hand flickered towards his gun and Barton was beginning to seriously wish that he’d never stepped into this lab in the first damn place.

“Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam?” Stark asked. “Poor guy’s been holding it in for a year and probably has a killer headache.”

“You know damn well why!” Rogers growled, grabbing Stark by the shirt. “Back off!”

“Oh I’m starting to want you to make me.”

“Oh really? Let’s see here, big man in a suit of armour? Take that away and what does that make you?”

There was a pause and then Stark, with a playful glint of his teeth said, “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Rogers shoved him away as though he had been burned. His eyebrows were drawn together in a long dark line that held a very menacing glare. “I know guys with none of that were easily worth ten of you. I’ve seen the footage Stark. The only thing you fight for is yourself! You’d never make the sacrifice, to lie down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

“See now as a smart man I think I would just cut the wire.”

“Always a way out isn’t there Stark? You may not be a threat but you better stop pretending to be a hero!”

Stark lost his temper. “A hero?” he scoffed. “Like you? No thank you! You’re a fucking lab rat, Rogers! Everything special about you and your so-called abilities came out of a bottle!”

“Put on the suit and I’ll go a few round with you,” Rogers challenged.

“Because this is supposed to be a team,” Banner murmured under his breath.

“Agent Barton, please escort Doctor Banner to his . . .” Fury began.

“Where, you rented my room?” Banner snapped, finally beginning to frown at them. “Don’t tell me it was ‘just in case’! It was in case you needed to kill me I suppose huh? Don’t bother I tried!”

Silence dropped like a penny in the room. A cold hand passed over Barton and he stared at Banner in shock. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised; Banner had been searching for a cure for years before he was even born, maybe he was getting tired? And old. But the look on the older man’s face tugged at Barton’s heart, it was that of a lost man. A man who had nothing left.

“I got low,” the scientist admitted to him, his voice very quiet. Deadly thin like ice. “I didn’t see an end to this . . .  this beast I’d become, so I put a bullet in my mouth and other guy spat it out like it was a fly! So I moved on. I focused on helping the sick and injured. I was a good man. Until you got Agent Barton to drag me back to this freak show and put everyone on this ship at risk!”

“Doctor Banner . . .”

“You want to know my secret, Agent Barton? You want to know how I stay calm!?”

Barton took two steps forward, his hands splayed in front of him. At some point during his tirade, Banner had reached behind him and picked up Loki’s spear which was now glowing a vividly, wicked blue. The archer swallowed nervously but did not show his fear to the other man. It was important, he now realised, that Banner knew he wasn’t afraid of him.

It was then that Helicarrier shook with the force of a terrible explosion and Barton felt himself being catapulted forward.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back again! Here's the next update! Let me know what you think!

**Parallax**

 

 

**_Budapest._ **

**_Seven years previous . ._ **

There’s a voice he can hear. It’s annoying and Barton wants to reach out and swat it away. As he went to lift his arm to do just that an ache made itself known and he groaned, doubling over in pain. The voice moved closer and someone touched at his neck, feeling for his pulse point. He growled in pain and half-heartedly tried to shove the person away.

“No, no you don’t want to do that my friend,” the voice said, a heavy Hungarian accent present.

Barton opened his eyes. The room span for a moment and then stilled, blurring at the edges as he sat up and rubbed at his aching temple. Crouched on a spindly stool nearby was the very last person he was expecting. His jaw dropped. It was the bartender from six months ago, the man who had served the pálinka that Barton drank when he first met Natalia.

“You . . .” he gasped. “How?”

“Simple enough. I heard over the news that a man had been found bleeding in a bank vault. I managed to get you away before the police swarmed over the place,” the bartender explained, a wry smile on his skinny cheeks. “You’ve been out for a long time, friend.”

“I didn’t think you spoke English,” Barton wheezed, bringing a hand up to grip at the painful spot on his abdomen. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing him in the stomach.

“You never asked,” his saviour laughed. “I’ve known who you are for a while young man. You can’t fool me, though you managed to fool the entire underworld of Hungary.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Endre. I have lived in Hungary for the last fifty years, earning a living out of that bar. I was once like you boy, American blood and guts.” 

“You’re American?” Barton asked. Unlikely, this man had a heavy Hungarian accent.

“Born yes. But now? I am Hungarian, that is all!” Endre laughed. He frowned suddenly. “You should not try to move Mr Clint; you have a bullet wound in your stomach. You are very lucky to be alive!”

Barton ignored him and swung his legs over the edge of his makeshift cot, wincing as the wound pulled in his movements. He stared down at his hands which were still shaking slightly from the medication that Endre had obviously given him. He was alive. In excruciating pain yes, but alive. He raised his head and met Endre’s gaze, his lips pursing together in thought.

“I should be dead,” he said after a thought. “Why am I alive?”

“Well I don’t know the answer to that,” Endre mused. “But I would be happy you are even still alive, my friend! Its _érdemes ünnepli_!”

“I fought the Black Widow.”

The look that fell over Endre’s face was one of shock and horror. For a moment he just gaped at Barton, looking like a fish out of water and wringing his hands nervously. Barton just shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, trying to refocus his memories of Natalia. She’d tried to kill him now he would definitely have to take her out. Fuck.

“Did you help her?” Endre asked stiffly.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you help her at any point whilst you have been here?”

He shrugged. “She saved my life once and I helped her avoid Bajusz’s men. We  . . . we ah . . . I don’t even know how it happened. . .”

“You slept with the Black Widow,” Endre whistled low. “Well my friend, if she really wanted to kill you I think she would have taken the headshot. She took the gut shot, probably to slow you down so she could escape from you. Does she know you work for the American government?”

“That’s why she shot me,” Barton admitted guiltily. She had been right. He had betrayed her and her trust. He should have come clean immediately after they slept together. “I screwed up. I was ordered to . . . terminate her. I couldn’t do it.”

“Falling in love with a woman like the Widow is not the smartest move you’ve made,” Endre said, handing him a glass of water. “How’d that even happen?”

“We’re the same,” was all Barton would say in return.

Endre left him to get some sleep after that but when Barton lay back onto the cot he found himself unable to relax. He couldn’t stop seeing the tortured look on Natalia’s face when she realised who he really was. She had been genuinely hurt. But still she had left him alive with only a hole in his stomach to remember her by. Beside the aching guilt in his heart of course.

_“There is no ‘us’! I thought I could trust someone for the first time in my life. I was mistaken. There will never be an ‘us’. Love is for children and I don’t want any part of that you hear me?”_

Barton rolled over onto his side with some difficulty and curled up into a ball, ignoring the pain in his stomach. Love is for children. Could it be true? Was she incapable of loving? Or being loved perhaps. He didn’t know. Either way he’d fucked up big time. But then . . .

He sat bolt upright as a terrible thought occurred to him. If Natalia was attempting to go it alone and try to get into Russia or the Ukraine then she was vulnerable. The news of him being found in a bank had been over the news, Bajusz and Álmos’ allies would have certainly seen it. She was in danger then. A hand curled around his heart and squeezed, worry filtering into his brain like a noxious gas.

He’d really fucked up.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
Lower Hold . . ._ **

Barton came to quickly, becoming very aware of a pain situated over his knees. When he looked down towards his legs he saw that several heavy beams were crushing them and he groaned, falling onto his back. He took a deep breath and tried to pull himself free. When that didn’t work he groaned again, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, racking his memory trying to piece together what had just happened.

They’d been arguing and he and Banner had gone over to check the sceptre. Then the explosion. Barton’s eyes shot open in horror. Banner! Had he been thrown out of the Helicarrier? The archer looked to his right and exhaled in relief. Banner was lying a few short feet away. Thank God.

“Doctor Banner,” Barton called tightly. “I really need your help. I’m stuck here.”

The doctor began to stir, rolling into a crouch. But the pained groan that he gave out was one that caught Barton’s attention. It wasn’t just pained, it was agony. Banner’s limbs had gone rigid and were shaking, as though some kind of pressure was trying to break out of the skin. Well that wasn’t far from the truth, Barton realised quickly. The Hulk was trying to assert his dominance over Banner.

 _Oh shit,_ he thought frantically, tugging at his legs once more. His knees screamed in protest but still they wouldn’t budge out from under the bars.

Banner’s groans were turning into agonised yells and he gripped at the concrete floor in desperation, shaking his head. Barton could already see the green tinge that was beginning to take over the once pale skin. The stocky man was nearly doubled over as he tried to fight off the other being that was roaring inside him.

“Doctor Banner, I know you can hear me,” Barton groaned. “We’re going to be okay, Bruce. I promise you. Once I get out from under these fucking poles I will walk you out of here and you can run, run like hell.”

At that moment two agents came running up, calling to Barton. He glared furiously and waved them away, nodding at the shaking Banner. There was a split second delay and then two agents turned and ran like hell, hurrying away from the situation. Barton took a deep breath, thinking quickly. He had to get Banner to calm down.

“Bruce, just breathe with me okay. We’re going to be fine. We’re going to get up and walk away and kick Loki’s ass you hear me? I promise you, on my head!”

“Your head!” Banner roared suddenly, turning to face him.

His eyes were wild with rage, green flecks throbbing out from his enlarged irises. His skin had turned a sickly green that was slowly spreading down his arms and disappearing into his shirt. Muscles bulged beneath the skin, twisting and curling in strange ways that made Barton sick to his stomach just watching. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away even as Banner crumpled, falling away from him as the Hulk took over his body.

There was the sound of tearing fabric and Banner reared up with a feral sounding growl, baring his teeth as he bellowed his agony at the roof. Barton began to tug at his legs more frantically, pushing against the pole with his hands and threw his strength against it. The pole moved an inch and he grunted in frustration, one more push ought to do it.

With a roar Bruce Banner was no more and the Hulk burst into life, tearing open shoes and his skin turning a vivid green. At that moment Barton managed to get the poles off his legs and rolled clear, just as more debris came toppling down over his head. He struggled to his feet, feeling his knees protest at the sudden jerking movement. He drew his gun and turned to face the Hulk who was facing away from him, roaring in deep rage.

“Fuck,” Barton muttered quietly. The Hulk was much bigger than he’d ever imagined.

The Hulk turned slowly towards him, sniffing deeply and then he rumbled deep in his muscular chest as he spotted Barton. The archer swallowed but otherwise did not move, he didn’t want to startle the Hulk into attacking. If Bruce was still in there perhaps he could regain control. If he could get to his bow which was thankfully stored nearby he could hit the big guy with a sedative arrow that would knock him out clean.

Thinking quickly Barton aimed upwards and fired one shot into the ventilation system over his head, spraying the pair of them with cold blinding air. Ignoring the bull like bellow that echoed out of the Hulk, Barton turned on his heel and bolted, swinging himself up into the rafters to escape. It wasn’t enough. As he ran like a spider through the rafters the Hulk pounded after him, screaming at the top of its lungs.

“Dr Banner!” Barton shouted as he ran. “It’s me! It’s Agent Barton! Your friend!”

“Hulk has no friends!” the beast shouted. “Friends took Betty!”

 _Who the hell is Betty?_ Barton thought wildly, continuing to run. He was cut up short when something wrapped itself around his ankle and yanked, _hard._ He came falling down to earth only to find himself swinging by his ankle from the Hulk’s fist. The Hawk swore spectacularly but did not flail, he knew from watching past footage that doing so could antagonise the Hulk further.

The grip that the green giant had around his ankle was excruciating and Barton was certain there would be at least two fractures in the bones there when all this was over. If he was still alive at the end of all of this that is. Barton stared the Hulk dead in the face. He was not scared of Bruce Banner; the man couldn’t hurt a fly if his life depended on it. Was he scared of the Hulk? Well that was a different question that he had no time to think on!

“Bruce, it’s me Clint,” he tried, softening his voice. The blood was rushing to his head and the world was spinning slightly. “Can you put me down please man? I can’t see straight. I’m your friend remember? I’m helping you here.”

“Hulk don’t need help!” the Hulk roared.

“Yeah I was worried you would say that,” Barton breathed. “Come on man, please?”

It seemed though that the Hulk wasn’t going to be given a choice when, a millisecond later, the burly figure of Thor appeared out of nowhere and body slammed into the monster. Barton found himself flying through the air and he landed hard on the floor, his ankles hitting the deck just as painfully as his knees did and the air being knocked clean from his lungs. He sat up just in time to see Thor tackling the Hulk away before he passed out.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
The Bridge . . ._ **

Agent Maria Hill could feel a stress headache heading her way. The only problem was that she couldn’t focus on the pain right now; she was in charge of the bridge until Fury returned from the lab. The explosion had shaken the Helicarrier with such impressive force that Hill could only speculate how much skill it could have taken to hit the engines in such a way that it caused the amount of damage that was being reported from the engine room. She ran over to another agent, peering over his shoulder to survey the damage readings.

“Shit,” she cursed.

As the expletive left her lips Hill’s radio burst into life and Fury’s voice was there, a comforting rumble in her ear. “ _Hill! Talk to me? What the fuck happened?_ ” he demanded.

“Turn up the engine. Number three engine is down and we need to get a run in!” Hill ordered one woman and turned back to the agent at her elbow. “Talk to us, Jones.”

Agent Jones shrugged. “The turbine’s been hit loose. It’s mostly intact but it will be damn near impossible to get out and make the correct repairs whilst we’re in the air. Especially if we’ve got hostiles in the area.”

 “Did you hear that sir?” Hill asked, moving back to her station.

“ _Unfortunately yeah. Fuck!_ ”

“If we lose one more engine this whole ship will be blown out of the sky,” she hissed. “Somebody’s got to get out there and patch that engine!”

“ _You hear that Stark?”_ Fury asked. “ _Coulson! Initiate the official lock down in the detention sector and then get to the armoury! That’s an order, move out!_ ”

When both men had voice the affirmative Hill allowed herself a moment to relax. Seconds later Nick Fury sprinted onto the bridge, only to find the rest of his team in disarray. Hill wanted to smack the helmsman across his smug little face, he looked so lost and if he didn’t get a hold of himself things were going to end very badly. Fury must have sensed her ire because he shot her a knowing look and then turned to the helmsman.

“Bring the carrier inwards and head south. Take us down to the water!” he barked, a glare across his good eye.

“Why water?” the frazzled man demanded. “Navigations recalibrated after the explosion sir!”

“Is the sun coming up?” Fury snarled.

“Uh, yes sir?”

“Then put it on the left! Get us over water. If we have one more turbine then this ship drops and I sure as hell don’t plan on dying today,” he instructed, and then beckoned Hill over. “Keep an ear clear on the Avengers. I’ve had reports that the Hulk is on a rampage.”

“Understood sir,” she whispered.

“Good. We need to pull an evacuation on the lower decks. If the Hulk destroys anything worthwhile, Loki will win.”

Hill just nodded and walked off, beckoning to a few standby agents to follow her. As she reached the threshold a strange circular object rolled in to still at her feet. It took only a second for Hill to realise what she was standing near and she shouted.

“ _Grenade!_ ”

The grenade exploded, sending her toppling over the railings to hit her head on the stairs. Her vision swam before her eyes and she reached up to rub the debris away from her eyes. Gasping for breath and crouched low, Hill dared a look over the railings, watching Fury fighting off several hostiles that were wearing S.H.I.E.L.D gear. Gunfire forced Hill to duck just as Jasper Sitwell gave an agonised cry.

“We have a perimeter breach! Hostiles are in S.H.I.E.L.D gear. Beware of every agent you meet! Sir, the Hulk and Thor have breached levels two, three _and_ four!” he called. “It doesn’t look good!”

“Sir, the Hulk is going to tear this place to pieces!” Hill shouted.

“Get his attention then,” Fury grunted. “I’m a little busy right now!”

Hill turned to her earpiece. “Escort six-oh-six proceed to two-seventy main shuttle. And don’t you dare get too close unless you want to die!” she ordered, turning her attention back to the fray. She aimed carefully, taking down one hostile with a bullet to his Achilles tendon.

“They are not getting through here so why would they be stupid enough to keep trying?” Fury was muttering.

Hill went to answer him and raised her head, then gave a startled gasp. She glared deeply as someone she hadn’t seen for a while prowled forward.

Natasha Romanoff had returned to their ranks. But she was still not herself if the glowing blue of her eyes was any indication. Since the last time she had seen Romanoff, the red-head’s eyes had gotten bloodshot and there were deep bags under her eyes. Despite this she looked to be in complete control and perfect health.  The Black Widow took careful aim and fired two shots, piercing through several important monitor screens.

Hill swore angrily and swung herself up onto the bridge, running towards Romanoff. She lunged and attempted to wrestle the gun from her hands. The Widow snarled wordlessly and kneed Hill in the groin. The dark haired woman gave a grunt of pain but did not fall, instead scratching out at Romanoff’s face with an open fist. She missed as Romanoff ducked; back flipping away out of harm’s way.

She needed to keep Romanoff away from Fury at all costs. The last time that the two of them had tangled her boss had to have a bullet removed from his shoulder. The red head clearly read her mind and realised she wasn’t going to get through for she turned on her heel and fled away into the depths of the ship, leaving Hill gasping for breath and surrounded by dead mercenaries.

“Hill? You harmed?” Fury said hurriedly, moving in front of her.

“No sir, just winded. Romanoff must be headed for the prisoner bay, Loki would be her next priority,” Hill said.

Her boss nodded and turned to his ear piece. “Romanoff is leading the assault!” he announced down the line. “She’s taken out our main systems including communications and navigation systems. She’s headed for Loki’s cell. Someone needs to stop her!”

The only one even capable of stopping her might be Barton _,_ Hill realised, a horrified expression crossing her eyes. Coulson’s words came back to swirl about her mind, eerily prophetic.

_“We’ll lose two agents then, not just one.”_

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
Lower Level 2 . . ._ **

There were swirling lights that danced in front of Barton’s vision when he came to. Side-effects of having all the blood rush to his head, the archer supposed. He pulled himself to his feet and rolled out his neck, massaging his temples delicately as he tried to right the world in his vision. Note to self: don’t take on the Hulk. Ever. The urge to throw up that followed from being held upside down was not a pleasant thing.

Barton looked around. Thor and Banner had long since disappeared, leaving shredded metal and random debris in their wake. He supposed it was best to leave them to it, if anyone had a chance of succeeding against the Hulk Thor was right up at the top of the list. The Hawk inhaled deeply, now to figure out what the hell had actually happened here. Explosions didn’t just happen for no reason. Fitzsimmons had been excluded from the mission for that very reason.

With a sigh Barton took off down the hall, clambering over some fallen grating to dig around under a removable floor panel. He’d stashed an emergency bow down here just in case he’d needed it. Well he definitely needed it now. There could be hostiles on board, hostiles that could lead him to Natasha. It wasn’t as good as his typical bow but it would do.

As he was considering which direction to take, Barton’s earpiece crackled into life. It was Fury.

 _“Romanoff is leading the assault!”_ the voice shouted. “ _She’s taken out our main systems including communications and navigation systems. She’s headed for Loki’s cell. Someone needs to stop her!”_

Barton’s blood ran cold and he stood stock still. Natasha was here on board the Helicarrier? Was she stupid enough to come here when her instincts would have told her he would be here? A thought crossed his mind that stirred some hope within his chest. Perhaps there was still something of the Natasha he knew in there, locked away for certain but still there. Was there hope yet?

“This is Agent Barton,” he said stiffly, reaching up to his hands free. “I copy. No one else is to engage Agent Romanoff, do you all hear me? I’m the only one with a chance to beat her. Stay out of our way or get killed.”

It wasn’t difficult to find her. The Black Widow had a bad habit of dropping bodies like breadcrumbs. Barton passed several dead S.H.I.E.L.D agents on his path, most in various stages of death and some in what looked to be very painful situations if the poor sap with a snapped neck was anything to judge by. Or the sorry bastard that had two broken legs, the bone breaching the skin.

He wrinkled his nose and stepped over body after body, an arrow pulled loosely against his bow string. His ears were sharply tuned into the silence that stretched up the hallway in front of and behind him. The bodies had stopped only a few metres ago and Barton was suddenly tenser then he had been in quite a while. Not since . . . he smiled sadly, not since Budapest.

There was a prickling sensation that crawled up the hairs on the back of Barton’s neck. It was the only warning he had before a small form came dropping down out of the ceiling to kick out towards his back. He spun on his heel and rolled backwards, drawing the arrow taught against the string as he stared down Natasha. Or what was left of Natasha as she stood over him with her hands on her hips.

The first thing he noticed about her was that her skin was sallow, yellowing and gaunt against her cheek bones. Almost as though she had been without food and light for the two weeks that she had been missing for. Barton supposed that for any normal spy two weeks under was nothing. But this was the Black Widow, she was very good at what she did so the fact she even got compromised in the first place was concerning.

Barton’s mouth had gone dry as he stared at her. The circles under Natasha’s eyes were pronounced and dark, her pupils bloodshot and dilated. Despite this she still looked like herself. Still agonisingly beautiful and horrendously dangerous. Barton sighed and shoved his thoughts back, letting the Hawk move forward and take over his personality.

“Now, now Natasha,” he called. “Let’s not fight, sweetheart.”

“You shouldn’t address your betters in such a familiar manner Agent Barton,” Natasha said mechanically. She slipped into an offensive stance. “Perhaps you need education in how to treat your betters.”

“I might remind you that I am still technically above you since I was the one who got you the job. Technically.”

The Widow shot forward, as quick as a striking spider and went to roundhouse kick Barton. He dodge rolled out the way, standing quickly and firing a sedative laced arrow at her. She ducked, the arrow hurtling harmlessly through her frizzy hair and punched him in the gut, hitting him clean across his spleen. Barton groaned and dropped the bow, using the momentum to grab her wrist and pull her close.

He span them around but Natasha used the momentum to body slam him against the wall. With her back to his chest Barton was suddenly made aware that they were as close as they had been many years ago, except with much less clothes. He dispelled the thoughts quickly and tightened his grip on the chokehold about her neck. She struggled against his grip, digging her fingernails into his exposed forearms hard enough to draw blood.

Barton grunted. “Natasha,” he hissed into her ear. “Wake up, it’s me Barton. You don’t want to kill me. It’s Clint. You’re safe here.”

“I am awake!” she snapped.

“Nat, please. Please don’t make me hurt you,” Barton pleaded. He was not prepared to go as far as to kill her but he knew that he might have to hurt her to stop her. “Wake up, sweetheart, I’m real and I’m here. Remember Budapest!”

“Don’t call me sweetheart!” Natasha cried, throwing him off and flipping away, catching up his fallen bow as she went. She swung it about experimentally. “Pathetic, Agent Barton, using such a long range weapon could leave you open to hand to hand fighting. Let me show you how it’s done.”

She swung the bow at his head, connecting with the wall when he ducked out of the way. He reached into his quiver and drew out one of his laced arrows, throwing it up just in time to block the head shot she took. Barton hooked the arrow through the bow and jerked hard, sending the bow clattering away once again. Then her hands were around his neck and she was wrestling him to the floor, squeezing down on his larynx.

Barton gagged, struggling to draw in oxygen as he scrabbled at the iron grip she had on his throat. She was going to kill him at this rate, he thought in a panic. Even as he struggled, remembering that it would be futile and likely to speed up his death, all he could see was the unnatural blue of her eyes. The arrow was inches from his hand if he could just reach it . . .

His vision was darkening and in a last desperate effort he reached up to Natasha’s face and with gentle fingers he ran his tips down her cheek in comfort. If he died by her hands, the life slipping between her fingers, she had to know that he didn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault. The action stilled her though, her eyes widening and the blue fading. The grip around his throat loosened and Barton took a deep gasp of oxygen, a groan falling from between his teeth.

“Clint?” Natasha said breathlessly and the blue in her eyes began to clear further.

Barton didn’t think, didn’t pause. He reached over, grabbed the arrow and buried it into the pressure point in her upper arm. The sedative worked almost instantly and she fell backwards, collecting her head hard on the edge of the railing as she went.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier . . .  
Medical Bay 2 . . ._ **

A sombre mood hung over the medical level. Fury knew that Romanoff was currently knocked out in a nearby room whilst she had the chemicals that had taken over her mind flushed out with some fluids and an extra dosing of Barton’s sedative. He had seen the scratches on Barton’s arms and the blood running down his pale skin but it was of little concern to him. Right now the only concern Nick Fury had was for the man lying dead in the bed in front of him.

Phil Coulson. The only ordinary man truly deserving of the term hero (besides Rogers that is). Fury reached up and rubbed at his forehead in annoyance. He had sent Hill off to get the cut on her head seen to, the last thing he needed was for his best agent to have a concussion. The door behind him slid open and Jasper Sitwell slipped inside and removed his glasses.

“What do you want Sitwell?” Fury asked tiredly.

“I just wanted to let you know that Romanoff should make a steady recovery. Barton won’t leave her side but I guess you expected that,” Sitwell said. “Also, Banner’s missing. He fell from the Helicarrier whilst in his Hulk form. Loki’s vanished without a trace along with Thor. Also, Stark and Rogers are unharmed. Did you want me to inform them about . . .”

“No. That’s my job.”

Sitwell nodded and turned to leave. Fury thought he was alone until the agent spoke again, almost tentatively. “Also sir, the World Council is on the line. They want to talk about Romanoff.”

The director narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists tight enough to turn his knuckles white. It was the last thing he needed right now and he wagered he knew exactly what they wanted. He grimaced. Barton was going to be thrilled.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its Update-Thursday! Hola! Thanks ever so much for all the reads and kudos! It makes it all the more worthwhile! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and please do let me know what you think! Comments are always wanted and appreciated! Even a kudos is worth it!

**Parallax**

 

 

**_Budapest._ **

**_Seven years previous . ._ **

They were coming for him. Barton just knew it. He could sense it in the air even as he hurriedly packed his bags a week later. Álmos’ sister was bound to want blood for Álmos’ death and Barton’s blood was probably top of the list right next to Natalia’s. He could only pray that Natalia had the sense to get the hell out of Budapest as quickly as possible. This place wasn’t safe, not anymore.

The thought brought a disdainful chuckle from him and Barton sat down on his bed to regain his self-control. His fit of the giggles subsided within seconds and left him feeling just as empty as he had before. It had been nice having Natalia around, almost like having a partner. Barton had never needed one, he was an assassin and he made his own extraction plan. Budapest clearly had changed that. It had changed a lot of things.

Luckily for him, Endre had lent him the spare room over the bar to hole up in until his wounds had healed. Barton was still shocked that Natalia had let him go with his life and he was certain there was more to her then S.H.I.E.L.D was telling him. He got to his feet and set his jaw. He could worry about that once he was back on American soil and didn’t have the Hungarian mafia after his skin.

At that moment his phone rang against his leg, vibrating loudly against the coins he’d left stashed in there from his old hotel room. He dug around and pulled out the device. He swore when he caught sight of the caller ID but answered anyway, bracing himself for the tirade.

“ _You know for as long as I’ve known you I’ve never, ever known you to screw up as big as you did with this job,”_ Phil Coulson commented, his tone still as mild as ever. “ _What the hell is happening over there Barton?”_

“Come on Coulson, it’s not that simple . . .”

“ _Then make it simple for me. Fury is about ready to hang you by your balls and you’re pussy footing around the subject. All you had to do was take her out. That’s how **simple** it was._ ”

Barton rolled his eyes and flopped back onto his bed. “Fuck Coulson, what do you want me to tell you? That I fucked up?” he asked hotly. “Cause I already knew that. I don’t really need you to nag me about it. And you tell Fury that he can shove his half-assed threats up his . . .”

“ _Barton._ ”

“Whatever man,” Barton sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Things got complicated over here. I can’t really explain over the phone.”

“ _Well then you best write it in a coded letter,_ ” his handler told him. “ _I’m to inform you that you aren’t welcome back in the States until the Widow is eliminated._ ”

“Why?! She’s just like me Coulson!”

There was silence on the phone and Barton cursed his big mouth. He couldn’t afford to let the higher ups know that he had done the exact opposite of what they had wanted him to do to Natalia Romanova. He could almost hear the cogs whirring in Coulson’s mind from here, thousands of miles away.

“ _Tell me you didn’t, Clint._ ”

“Okay, I didn’t.”

“ _Jesus Christ, you couldn’t keep it in your pants?_ ” Coulson demanded angrily. “ _Exactly how am I supposed to explain this to Fury?_ ”

“Easily,” Barton said sharply. “You don’t.”

“ _Clint, if you were lonely you should have said . . ._ ”

“Save it Coulson. As far as you and I are concerned this conversation never happened,” he interrupted. “I’ll get the job done and I’ll be back before you know it. Tell Fury not to worry, he’ll have the blood of the Black Widow very soon. I gotta go; I’ve got a plan to set in motion.”

Barton hung up the phone viciously and threw up his hands to cross them behind his head. He should have known that Coulson would have figured it out eventually. The man was sharper than any of his arrows. The fact that he reported directly to Fury posed a few problems but Barton was sure he’d have at least a week leeway to fix things. Coulson believed in second chances, thank Christ.

The Hawk sat up and grabbed his duffel bag, swinging it over his shoulder and grabbed the briefcase that contained his bow and arrows. He slid out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time and then crossed over the threshold into the bar silently. It was quite busy, happy hour had already begun.

Barton had planned his escape accordingly so that few people would notice him. He’d left a note on the pillow for Endre to find. He really did appreciate everything the old man had done for him, saving his life and all that. He was about to pass through the door onto the street when he caught the tail-end of a Hungarian news report.

“ _Police have told us that a large mob of the criminal networks run by Bajusz the Black and Álmos Kardos have taken over the borders. They are being led by one Eszter Kardos, sister to the deceased Álmos and lover of Bajusz the Black,_ ” the journalist reported. “ _They appear to be waiting for something or someone. Police have advised the public to steer clear of the border until the mess is cleared up. Now to weather._ ”

A cold sweat broke out over Barton’s forehead and he stared at the TV screen in dumbfounded shock. Well this was not good at all. If they had been there for a while then Natalia was probably still in the city and in a hell of a lot of danger. Shit.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
Engine Room . . ._ **

Some could argue that Tony Stark didn’t give two shits about anyone but himself. For a while, he supposed that had been downright true. But then Afghanistan had shattered his world into bits and left Rhodey and Pepper to pick up the pieces. So then there had been two people that Tony had counted as a close friend. Phil Coulson had quickly joined that list, Tony now realised. He wouldn’t have trusted him originally, but now . . . now it was too late. Pepper was going to be devastated.

 _Oh God, Pepper,_ Tony thought, horrified. How the hell was he going to tell her about Coulson? The two had been so close. He hadn’t liked it of course but Pepper had lit up every time the suit walked into a room or rang to speak to Tony regarding a matter.

But they’d gained Natasha back amongst their ranks. And lost Loki and Coulson in one fell swoop. Tony was more than a little pissed off. He’d heard that Banner had Hulked out and jumped out of the Helicarrier as well as Thor being thrown from this blasted ship as well. Fury had said it well, they had nothing. Try as he might though, Tony couldn’t even muster the energy to care much beyond staring at the stain Coulson’s blood had left on the wall.

 _Strange how we all bleed the same colour_ , he thought miserably.

“Was he married?”

Tony looked up and met Rogers’ gaze. The soldier looked careworn, a sad gleam in those blue eyes, and a defeated slump to his shoulders. Fury’s thing about the trading cards had obviously shaken him but Tony found he didn’t give a hoot. As far as he was concerned Rogers should have been on his side from the beginning and they could have worked faster to prevent Natasha trying to blow them all up.

“Ah no,” he said shortly, preferring to swallow what he was thinking. “There was a cellist, I think.”

Rogers crossed his arms and leaned against a railing; staring down into the hole and watching the clouds float by. “He was a good man,” he said. “I didn’t know him long but . . .”

“He was an idiot,” Tony corrected off-handily. Part of him still wanted to get a rise out of the walking talking time capsule. “Taking on Loki alone. He should have waited for me, or you I guess if he couldn’t get me.”

“Just because he believed in heroes Stark it doesn’t make him in an idiot,” the blonde contested. He paused and then said; “Is this the first time you’ve lost a solider?”

Tony grabbed the Captain by his shoulders and gave him a shake, glaring furiously at him. “We are _not_ soldiers, you hear me!” he snarled. “I am not marching to Fury’s trumpet any more, not ever again.”

“Neither am I,” Rogers said quietly. He didn’t even try to remove Tony’s hands from his shoulders. “He’s got the same blood on his hands that Loki does. But listen . . . Tony . . . I  . . . you know sometimes there isn’t a way out. I’ve seen someone make the sacrifice play and God help me I hated it but  . . .”

Tony stopped listening and turned away from Rogers, stamping down angrily on the tears that swam in his eyes. Why was he crying? What was he? A fucking child? What right did Loki have to come down here, play with people’s minds and kill innocent . . .

“He made it personal.”

“Tony . . .”

“He hit us when we’re together as a group why?” Tony asked, spinning around with wide eyes.

“To split us up?” Rogers ventured.

“Divide and conquer is one thing but this is on a whole new level. I mean we cut his act in Stuttgart remember?” he babbled. “He wants to beat us _and_ be seen doing it. Loki’s a diva.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Tonight is opening night and he wants flowers, beautiful women on each arm and a glass of champers. Fuck, if you offered him a monument built to the sky with his name plastered all . . . _Son of a bitch!”_

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
Medical Room 4 . . ._ **

She was awake. Properly this time. Barton should know. He checked three times.

All in all Natasha seemed to be okay, if a little spaced out at the moment. He wagered that there was hell of a lot of guilt flooding through her right now. But he stayed by her side, ignoring the smart ass remarks that Sitwell and the guys had made. (He had made a mental note to superglue Sitwell’s glasses to their case later but let’s not go there). There was a strange faraway look in Natasha’s eyes that kept Barton on his toes; her tendency to lash out was all too close to his memory right now.

It was as though she was internally trying to obliterate every single bit of Loki’s control over her. She must have hated being out of control, he knew it would remind her of her past. Barton hoped they wouldn’t be back to square one with her but he would be there. No matter what. A frustrated huff burst out of her and Barton looked up from the arrowhead he’d been fiddling with.

“Nat, you’re going to be okay,” he said quietly.

“Like you would know, huh Clint?” she retorted painfully. When he didn’t answer she ploughed on, her eyes wide and frightened. “I’ve got to get him out of my head. No more control, I don’t want it.”

“I know.”

He got up and began pouring some water into a glass. He didn’t watch as Natasha tried to break the leathers tying her to the bed, again. It was a knee jerk reaction that came with being tied up. Particularly in their line of work. All he had to remember was that she was under a great deal of stress and pain so that he wouldn’t take anything she said too seriously.

“I never thought I’d have someone play with my brain again,” Natasha admitted shortly, her eyes boring into his back. “Take me out, shove something else in and expect me to be peachy keen about the whole idea? So overrated,” she sighed.

Barton nodded. “I imagine you don’t remember much of what you were doing,” he suggested, sitting down beside her. He set about working on the bonds, not once meeting her gaze. “Hold still I don’t want to get your skin caught in the buckle.”

“I remember everything. Clint. How many agents did I . . .?”

Barton finished releasing her and reached up, placing two fingers over her lips. “Don’t,” he said simply, his tone brooking no argument. “Don’t do that to yourself Nat, it wasn’t you. It was all Loki, all of it.”

Her lips felt so soft under his fingers and he pulled away reluctantly as she sat up with a whispered thanks. Natasha swung her legs over the bed and rubbed at her wrists absentmindedly. Barton just watched as she took the glass and swallowed the water in one long draught. When she lowered the glass she looked moderately better.

“Well I guess if I put a bullet through his brain it would make me feel better,” Natasha mused.

“That’s my girl,” Barton laughed, rubbing a hand over her shoulder in comfort.

She smiled at him, a warm tilt of the lips that she reserved only for his eyes. It was times like this that Barton had to remind himself that Natasha Romanoff didn’t love. _Love is for children._ He broke their gaze and shoved the arrowhead into his pocket, running his tongue over his dried out lips. The urge to kiss her was getting a bit overwhelming.

“Don’t suppose you know where Loki might have gone?” he asked. It was easier to talk about the mission. They’d done it for years, danced around who they were to each other. “Or what his next move might be?”

“Wish I did or you know where I’d be. I’m sorry but I have no idea. It will be soon though I imagine, Selvig wasn’t too far off building whatever Loki needed him to build,” Natasha replied.

Barton stood up forcefully, beginning to pace around the room as he tried to think. “We have to stop him,” he muttered. “Whoever’s left, we’ve got to band together and stop him before he summons all of hell upon all of us.”

“You don’t sound like yourself, Hawkeye.”

“What?”

“We’re spies,” she reminded him. “Not soldiers. And now here you are talking about wading into a war? I told you before; I’ve got no interest in wars. Great battles don’t appeal to me.”

“I know. I wasn’t asking you to come. In fact I’d truthfully feel better if you stayed behind,” Barton admitted.

That got her attention. She climbed down off the bed to walk towards him, stopping just inches from him. She had to raise her head to look at him but she did it, using her hands on his cheeks to force him to look at her. Barton found himself staring into her eyes, beautiful once again and he swallowed deeply. The look Natasha was giving him was probing and questioning, one he didn’t feel like answering.

“What did Loki do to you?” she asked.

“Nothing. Maybe I’m over fighting in the shadows. Maybe I’m suck to fucking death of hiding who I am and what I can do.”

 _And what I feel,_ he added mentally. But it was the truth. Spending time with Banner and the others had screwed with his head. With the exception of the former they were all free with their identity, confident in who they were. Even Bruce Banner, terrified as he was of the Hulk, had a certain air of confidence that he carried. He was confident in his ability to control the Hulk to an extent. Barton wanted that control, that confidence. He wanted to be able to confess how he felt to Natasha and take her out to nice restaurants and buy her flowers, regular shit like that.

Although he hadn’t said anything Natasha seemed to understand what he was driving at. She looked at him with such sadness and despair that he wanted to wrap her into his arms and keep her safe.

“I will fight by your side as I’ve always done,” she said, her voice shaking. “But Clint, I can’t give you any more than that. Do you understand me?”

Barton smiled at her, but it was broken and forced. He had known this was coming. It was inevitable. She was the Black Widow and she didn’t give her heart to anyone, no matter how much they may deserve it. Natasha’s words seemed to be affecting her more than they were affecting him because her lower lip had begun to tremble. He laughed at her gently and drew her to his body, wrapping his muscled arms around her shoulders with ease.

“Hey now, we don’t need any of that,” he teased. “No tears okay Natasha? You’re the one who’s breaking my heart, you don’t get to cry.”

She pulled back to stare at him. “You’re a good guy, Clint Barton. One day you’ll find a woman who deserves you.”

Natasha Romanoff didn’t apologise for her words from earlier and honestly, Barton wouldn’t have wanted her to. She was herself once more and he had her back. Just to know that she was safe was enough for him. He didn’t tell her that he didn’t want anyone else. It was a fruitless hope to hold onto but Barton wasn’t giving up on Natasha. She deserved that much at least.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
World Council Conference Room . . ._ **

He hadn’t become head of S.H.I.E.L.D based on his looks, this Nick Fury knew. He had been right. Barton was going to be absolutely livid.

“She’s been compromised once,” China’s delegate said. “What’s to say it will not happen again? You need to terminate her. Permanently.”

 _Like hell,_ Fury thought. Doing so would mean having to terminate Barton first. He wasn’t prepared to do either. He fixed the Chinese delegate with his one good eye and focused all his annoyance into one glare. The World Council shifted under his gaze and then he folded his arms, tilting his head at them.

“Let me see if I have this right,” Fury said slowly. “You want me to terminate an agent who has paid back her debt a thousand times over, a woman who is capable of holding her own against superheroes? A human woman? I think you should know that my answer will rhyme something with ‘truck’ no.”

“You would do well to . . .” the female councillor began.

“Maybe you forget that you elected me head of S.H.I.E.L.D. That gives me the authority to pick my agents. Ma’am, I am not meaning to be rude but you really have no idea what kind of person Romanoff is. You don’t get to decide the status of my agents. Not now, not ever.”

“Agent Romanoff .  . .”

“Has saved our secrets more than a hundred times in the last few years,” Fury finished for her. He shook his head. “I refuse to carry out this termination and you sure as hell know you can’t stop it.”

“You can easily be removed from your position, Director Fury,” the head councilman growled in warning. “Do not test us. Unless you can guarantee without a shadow of a doubt that Agent Romanoff is not, or will ever be, a liability to us then her termination is the only option we have. Where do we put our faith?”

“Agent Barton.”

“The Hawk?” another councillor scoffed. “A snivelling boy who has no idea of how an institution like this should be run. He has been a thorn in our side since you brought him in, Fury. And you want this Council to take his word about the Widow? Unlikely.”

“Agent Barton is one of our best and brightest. He has not failed us.”

“Except for bringing the Widow into our midst and putting everyone at risk!” the head councilman snapped. “My patience with your snide remarks wanes Director. I want solid proof that you can control the Widow or this Council will be forced to step in and rectify the situation ourselves. Trust me. None of us want that.”

With that the connection was terminated and Nick Fury was left seething. He ground down on his teeth in annoyance and stalked out of the room, the door sliding softly shut behind him. If anything it further served to increase his bad mood as he strode onto the bridge. Hill looked up to ask him a question but closed her mouth with a sharp click. The look on his face must have been clear.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier . . .  
Medical Room 4 . . ._ **

Natasha had taken the news of Coulson’s death as well as Barton had expected. Pain had seared across her eyes for a brief moment before the walls came up once again, shielding her emotions from view. As for himself Barton wasn’t sure how to feel about the death of his friend. Yes they had been friends; they’d bantered, they’d fought, they’d drank and they’d reminisced.

He felt oddly empty, as though a small piece of him had just disappeared. It wasn’t pain. Just a strange kind of emptiness that he couldn’t quite understand. It had kept his mind occupied whilst Natasha had excused herself to shower and clean herself up. Brooding wasn’t the best way to deal with it but Barton couldn’t see any other viable option at this point. The only clear path he could see was perhaps putting an arrow through Loki’s eyeball.

His brooding was interrupted when the door to the medical room hissed open and Rogers came hurrying over the threshold. Barton shot him a questioning look and got up.

“We’re moving out,” the solider said by way of explanation. “Stark knows where to find Loki. Can you fly one of those jets?”

“Yeah I can,” Barton began. “But . . .”

“He’s not going alone.”

Natasha had reappeared, her damp hair braided tightly against her head and a fresh uniform on her body. Barton didn’t need to look around to know there would be a challenging set to her jawline. Rogers shot him a look, as though asking him permission and when Barton nodded he relaxed.

“Got a suit?” he asked. Natasha nodded. “Good, suit up.”

Once Rogers had disappeared again, Barton grabbed his battle bow and began fixing his weapon to his body. He did this as he always did, a process of mechanical precision that kept his hands busy so that his mind was free to wander. Today he wasn’t keen on his thoughts; they kept straying to Natasha and her words.

_“I can’t give you any more than that. Do you understand me?”_

_“Love is for children.”_

Barton shook his head forcefully, finally slinging the bow over his shoulders and turning to watch as Natasha finished testing her Widow’s bite. They looked at each other for a long moment, shared a small smile and then hurried out the door after Rogers.

 

 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola~  
> Its update Thursday once again and we're back with the start of the Battle for New York (revised edn.)  
> Let me know what you think??  
> Cheers babes x

**Parallax**

 

 

**_Budapest._ **

**_Seven years previous. ._ **

Barton had been huddled in the scrubland near the Hungarian border for what had seemed like days. Truthfully it had been only twelve hours since he had picked his vantage point but there was a cramping in his knees and lower back that had been bothering him for at least four hours. The road he had picked was not a direct route to the airport and was not as heavily guarded as the main roads. It was as logical choice for Natalia to pick this road. So here he was.

He was starting to seriously doubt he would ever see her again though. So far there had been no sign of her and Barton was beginning to wonder if she’d slipped out of Hungary immediately after shooting him. Not a wise move in the short term but now? Probably one of the smartest moves the Widow could have made given the circumstances.

This particular blockade was made up of several hundred armed men. It was also the outpost that Eszter had chosen to set up camp at. Barton didn’t know whether to swear or to laugh. He knew that there would be no avoiding a confrontation with her but so soon? Not ideal and it made things more complicated. His only concern here should be Natalia’s safety and his own.

A heavily armed SUV came rolling up towards the border, several soldiers hanging off the doors and carrying rifles and batons. Barton rolled onto his stomach, adjusting the bow when it poked into his ribs, and squinted at the truck. It was not the first movement that he had seen; most of the trucks had been allowed to pass with standard checks. Barton sincerely hoped this was not one of them.

It was the solider on the back that caught his attention. It wasn’t anything major but it was enough to catch his sharp eyes. A stray curl of the soldier’s hair that peeked out from under his helmet had a red sheen to it. Barton narrowed his gaze at the soldier, sliding his eyes over the slightly curvier form and the forced hardened features of ‘his’ face. It was a brilliant disguise, but not brilliant enough to deceive a Hawk’s eyes.

“Points for a bloody good try Natalia,” he muttered to himself. It was a damn good disguise.

The SUV slowed to a stop and the soldiers hit the concrete with a crunching of boots, marching over to Eszter. She cut a determined figure with her long coat and her blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, leather gloves over her long dextrous fingers and sunglasses covering her eyes. Barton pulled an arrow from his quiver and nestled it against the bow, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. There was no telling who else might have caught Natalia’s disguise.

“ _Are you shipping things out?_ ” Eszter asked, her rapid Hungarian only just translating in his mind. “ _Weapons and stock?”_

“ _Yes ma’am,_ ” a soldier replied. “ _No sign of the spider or the hawk. I’d say we’re shot of ‘em. Time to put our ears to the ground so to speak?_ ”

Eszter prowled along the lines of soldiers, a strange expression twisted over her lips. “ _Perhaps. It is possible they slipped through, but I have no reports of them entering another country so I think that they are still here,_ ” she mused, pausing in her steps. _“Perhaps even closer than we think._ ”

Barton’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, his fingers tightening around the string of his bow. Had she noticed him in the bushes? Or perhaps she had noticed Natalia’s disguise. Eszter stopped in front of Natalia’s body, drew her gun and then shot the solider beside the Widow. Everyone jumped in shock. Barton’s head was reeling, how lucky could one person get?

“ _Disgusting,”_ Eszter snapped, spitting over the corpse. “ _What kind of soldier lets a spy infiltrate their own battalion?_ ” she added angrily, her hand snaking out to grab at the Widow.

Natalia, luckily, had seen the strike coming and skittered backwards, raising her rifle and firing several warning shots at the road. The soldiers all hurried back to form a wall around Eszter, rifles pointing at the Widow and shouts in Hungarian floating around the air. Barton wiggled up the hill slightly so he could aim his bow over the embankment.

“The Black Widow,” Eszter said. Her mouth split into a toothy smile. “A good disguise. But not good enough, you are missing the arm patch on the right arm.”

Natalia pulled off the hat, allowing her dyed hair to fall into its natural curls. “You must be Eszter,” she said. “I’d say it is a pleasure to meet you but I was taught to never lie.”

Eszter ignored the comment and lowered her gun, stepping forward to peer thoughtfully at her. “You killed my brother, Álmos, and my lover,” she said slowly. “Bajusz.”

Well now, that was a surprise. Barton’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been expecting that. He knew Álmos and Bajusz had been close but this added a whole new level of something else. So Eszter had double the reasons to kill them. He chewed on his tongue in concentration, his eyes never once leaving Natalia, who seemed to have figured out the connection.

“Tell me,” Eszter was saying. “Where is the man who killed my brother? Where is Cyrus?”

“Dead.”

“How?”

“I shot him three times in the head,” Natalia said bluntly. “I doubt he’s getting up after that. Even if he did, which I doubt, he would be steering as far clear from me as possible. I tend to rack up a body count and I don’t think he wanted to join the pile, much as his lust for me was all consuming.”

“You two were lovers?”

“I prefer the words short term dalliance.”

“Well, at least you got the time to have your flesh worshipped before you die here Black Widow,” Eszter said, smiling cruelly. “You aren’t leaving here alive, surely you know that. I have two hundred men at my disposal; you are one woman with a filthy reputation and a stolen weapon.”

“I’ve faced worse,” Natalia shrugged, pulling the safety off. “I’d rather take my chances.”

“Very well then. Kill her. Make it slow,” Eszter called, turning to leave. “I like to hear them scream.”

Barton pulled the arrow back, there wasn’t going to be any screams coming from Natalia, not if he had anything to say about it. He let the projectile fly; it whistled through the air and lodged itself deep in the throat of one of the soldiers. He fell dead with a gurgle and a spray of blood.

Chaos broke out. Natalia’s head whipped around, searching for the origin of the arrow but he managed to duck away in time so he wouldn’t be seen. Eszter was screaming, shouting for someone to search the surrounding bushes. Barton slid down the muddy hill to where he’d parked his truck, snatching the extra arrows from the open passenger side door. He hid himself behind a nearby tree, peering out to the road.

Soldiers were running about in all directions, trying to get a lock on Natalia’s location. She had ducked behind the convoy, pulling guns out of her various pockets and a glare pulled up over her teeth. Barton loosed another two arrows, killing two more soldiers. Then whilst they were distracted he sprinted through the wave of gunfire and forward rolled behind the car, sliding into Natalia’s side.

“Hello darling, miss me?” he greeted her cheerfully, fitting another arrow to his bow.

“You son of a bitch!” she snarled. “How are you . . .”

“Alive? Interesting story really,” Barton mused. “I was shot in the stomach by one of the most attractive young women I’ve had the fortune to meet. Really classy lady she was. Sadly for her, I heal rather quickly.”

“You should have bled to death in that bank!” Natalia snapped, leaning around the van and shot three more men. “So how the hell are you still alive?”

“I have more friends than you might have realised. Also how exactly did you expect me to die when you put the bullet in a place where there were no major organs or arteries?”

Barton fired an explosive arrow off and killed four more soldiers. He smirked with triumph and rolled back into the heat of Natalia’s glare. She hadn’t spoken a word but he could feel her ire flowing from every particle of her skin, even though he had yet to touch her. Despite the absence of her fiery red hair, which he greatly missed, Natalia’s red anger was ever present.

“Clint. . .”

“Ah, ah, Cyrus at the moment. Not until we’re out of this mess,” he said, mock reproach colouring his voice. “We’ve only got another hundred and ninety men to kill so we can get out of here. Budapest is rather cramped for our style don’t you think?”

“If you think this makes us a team, _agent,_ you are very sorely mistaken!”

“Kill them!” Eszter screeched. “Kill that stupid _szuka_ and her _kutya_!”

“Well now that wasn’t very nice,” Barton murmured. He shot a smirk at Natalia. “I don’t like these people. Quite rude.”

“Wonder why that is, since we killed two important people in her life,” Natalia said. She shot two more soldiers and dodged out a wave of bullets. “Get lost, agent, I can handle this myself!”

“Yes, I can see that. Tell me, how exactly were you planning to escape by yourself?” he asked. “Two hundred soldiers to take on by yourself? One hundred apiece seems fair in this case.”

Natalia rolled out from behind the truck and threw out a flash bomb; he only just turned away in time to shield his eyes from the blast. He peered out under the truck, watching as she moved into action, his mouth agape. This was the fastest he’d ever seen her move or fight. The muscles in her body moved with a beautiful precision, when all this was over he was going to have to spar with her, he just knew it.

She kicked the feet out from under one soldier and with her foot, broke his ribs with a single jab of her heel. While he was shouting from the pain she turned to the next two soldiers, ducking out of their grip and slamming their heads together, hard enough to give a fracture in their skulls. She threw a knife through another soldier, a beatific snarl on her lips the entire time.

“I gotta call Coulson,” Barton breathed to himself. “I think I’m getting married.”

He gave a short chuckle and with that last glamorous thought he stood up, launched himself onto the hood of the vehicle and firing arrows with deathly precision. Every arrow he launched hit its mark, either through the forehead or the neck. The concrete was already awash with blood and innards, the vomit of some soldiers marring the scent of the air. Barton could see Eszter in the distance, a filthy glare on her face and wordless screams pouring from her pretty lips.

“Think about this darling,” Barton called over jovially. “This will be an awesome story to tell our grandchildren!”

“If you think you and I will ever be in the same room with your pants around your ankles you have another bullet coming your way with your name on it!”

“Now, now darling we mustn’t fight. Whatever will the children say?”

“That you’re a sick, lying bastard?” Natalia asked, violently snapping a soldier’s neck and gutting another.

Barton just laughed and jabbed a free arrow into the eye of a soldier who dared too close to the SUV. These soldiers were grating on his patience. He had hoped that once they saw that they had little chance of defeating him and Natalia that they would turn tail and run. It would seem that they were hopelessly devoted to Eszter’s little death wish. Shame.

“It’s like they want to die,” he commented mildly, slicing another’s neck open.

“Shut up Barton or I’ll kill you next,” was the response he got.

Hours later when they stood among the corpses of two hundred dead men, both their faces smeared with blood and gore, Eszter seemed to be dumbfounded. Natalia had a cut across her head where one soldier had hit her with the but of his gun and Barton sported a broken collarbone but they still stood standing, each with a weapon in their hands. The archer was whistling a strange tune under his breath, swinging the bow about with ease whilst Natalia just glared ferociously at him.

“You people,” Eszter gasped. “You two are crazy! How can you have defeated two hundred men?”

“I’ve been killing people since before I could walk,” Natalia commented. “Two hundred men isn’t even a notch on my bedpost.”

“Frankly this was rather a good workout for me,” Barton said, swinging the bow around his shoulders. “I’m actually disappointed that I only got ninety-nine,” he said jerking his thumb at Natalia. “She got one hundred and one. Show off.”

“Don’t pout Barton, it doesn’t become you.”

“You bitch!” Eszter screeched, launching herself towards Natalia at a run. Seconds later she fell to the floor, dead with an arrow through her open mouth.

Barton lowered the bow with a great sigh. She had to go and do that, he regretted killing her as soon as the blood had sprayed through the air. Natalia didn’t react as the other woman fell to the ground, dead as the rest of her men; she simply picked up what weapons were salvageable and began trudging through the corpses to reach an undamaged vehicle. Barton followed after, pausing only to yank the arrow out of Eszter’s dead body.

“Where to now, dear?” he asked, wiping the blood off the head of the arrow.

“ _I_ am going to the airport,” Natalia said, not facing him. “ _You_ are going to crawl back into whatever hole you somehow pulled yourself out of after I shot you. _We_ are never going to see each other ever again, understand?”

“Jesus Christ, Natalia,” Barton swore, reaching out and grabbing her elbow. He spun her easily and pushed her up against the SUV, both of them breathing hard. “I just saved your fucking life, as you have saved mine. We are even.”

“You lied to me.”

“Yes. I did. And then I offered you protection. Tell me, darling, when have I ever tried to kill you in the last nine months that we have known each other?” he asked. “Hm? Never? Exactly.”

“Fuck you, Barton!” Natalia gasped, pushing at his grip on her shoulders.

“You already did that, darling. As I recall you quite enjoyed it,” he snapped. “Don’t be an idiot, Natalia. I’m offering you a second chance. If I were you I’d take it. I’m going to be in New York City three days from now, in Central Park. If you’re not there, I’ll let S.H.I.E.L.D. send whoever they want after you. And trust me, who they send will have no qualms about killing you.”

He kissed her violently on the lips, bruising their skin and stealing their breath and then parted, dropping her back against the vehicle. He walked away, refusing to look back, collecting arrows as he went. He meant every word he said, his heart was breaking. He was too attached, better to let someone else slit her throat so that he could move on, or she’d come to New York and they’d move on, together or otherwise.

“I’d think seriously about it if I were you,” he called over his shoulder, climbing into an SUV and driving away, leaving the Black Widow standing in a puddle of blood and corpses.

~~~

**_NEW YORK CITY  . . .  
Ground Zero . . ._ **

Getting back into mission mode had been easier with Natasha back by his side, Barton reflected as he flew the jet over the rippling ocean towards New York City. It had been the two of them for years now, it was strange not working with her. He didn’t like it. When she had been deployed to spy on Stark he’d had the same problem, as though a piece of himself had been snapped clean and taken when she left. He was always much more relaxed when she was back by his side.

It had been way too easy to hijack the jet. Rogers had stepped aboard as though he owned the place, took one look at the frightened technician and dismissed him with a quick sentence. Barton had made a mental note to get Coulson to crack down on the guy’s training until he remembered that the older agent was dead. Coulson, dead. It still stung at his chest, searing and raw. He had to get over it, he couldn’t afford to be compromised at this stage of the game.

The jet sung through the air, navigating through New York’s busy skyline with relative ease as Barton tilted the controls gently, as though commanding a lover. There were too many tight corners here for any fancy acrobatics today. By his side, Natasha sat on the guns at the ready and fiddled with the communication unit, trying to hack into Stark’s armour.

“Stark, we’re headed your way, on your twenty,” she reported once she had broken through.

“ _What did you do, stop for drive through?_ ” Stark’s voice demanded.  A beat, then . . . “ _Hold the fuck up!_ ” he gasped. “ _Insy winsy spider is back?_ ”

“Very funny Stark,” Natasha deadpanned. “What the hell is going on down there?”

“ _Nothing good, swing up Sixth Avenue and I’ll lay ‘em out for you._ ”

Barton swung the jet around a corner just as Natasha lowered the guns just in time to see Stark streak past, a trio of strange creatures hot on his tail. The guns burst into life, firing round after round of bullets at the creatures, knocking two of them out of the air. The archer threw the jet upwards, taking to the air towards the top of Stark Tower, where there was blasts of blue energy radiating.

Thor and Loki were grappling on the main balcony, the smaller man using his staff to back his elder brother up as far away from him as possible. Barton gritted his teeth at the sight of the trickster god, wincing as the dark haired demi-god managed to smack Thor clean across the face with his staff.

“Nat,” he began.

“I got him,” she replied, aiming the gun in Loki’s direction. “Incoming, asshole,” she muttered to herself, firing off a large round of bullets in his direction.

Barton managed to see at least one graze the trickster’s shoulder before he unleashed a blast from his staff. It collided into one of the jet’s engines, an explosion shaking them violently and smoke began to filter through into the compartment. He could hear Natasha cursing in Russian at his side, some very creative comments, and then Rogers shouting in alarm as he fell over backwards.

 _I’ve got to land this thing;_ Barton thought and swung away from the tower. The jet rocketed towards the ground, spewing black smoke out of the damaged engine. They hit the pavement with a shuddering groan and violent shake, sliding across into the building before jerking to a stop. He and Natasha fell back against their seats and then looked at each other, before moving into actions and removing the belts around their bodies.

“Well as far as landings go we’ve had worse,” Barton commented as he grabbed his quiver.

“Clint, we are not discussing Fiji. Ever. That was the rule,” Natasha reminded him as she tossed Rogers his communicator device.

“What happened in Fiji?” Rogers asked.

“Only the best party ever,” Barton told him. “Story for after we beat the shit out of the aliens.”

Rogers nodded and turned on his heel, running out of the jet with Natasha and Barton tight on his heels. Barton was certain he heard Natasha mutter something disparaging at him in Russian and he laughed. The laughter died in his throat when they reached the street and promptly looked up. There was a large black hole in the sky that did not bode well for anyone’s future, of that Barton was certain.

If the strange alien creatures, Chitauri Thor had called them, floating out of it was any indication at least. As they watched a large hybrid mutant came drifting out of the sky. It looked like a cross between a slug and a turtle with large snapping jaws and razor sharp scales. Barton swore loudly, why couldn’t this have been easy? Now he had to actually get serious from day dot.

“Stark, you seeing this?” Rogers asked, his mouth agape.

“ _Seeing, still working on the believing part,_ ” the Iron Man replied blithely. “ _Where’s Banner? He shown his face yet?”_

“Banner?”

“ _Just keep me posted,_ ” Stark said cryptically, zooming over their heads and destroying two Chitauri as he went.

At that moment several Chitauri landed on the road, drawing strange firearms and screeching at them. Thinking quickly, Barton grabbed Natasha by the elbow and drew her behind a fallen taxi just in time to prevent her being hit by their bullets. She shot him a look, a mixture of gratefulness and exasperation. Rogers joined them a second later, his shield over their heads. The screams of civilians were ringing through the air, catching their attention.

“There are people that need assistance over there,” Rogers muttered.

Natasha peered over the taxi and then shot up, firing two rounds with her pistols and killing two Chitauri. She shot the Captain a look. “We got this. It’s good, go!”

Rogers shot Barton a look. “Think you can hold them off, Barton?” he asked.

“Captain,” he laughed. “It would my genuine fucking pleasure! Get going, leave the fun for us!”

The Captain accepted that and ran, vaulting off the bridge in seconds and leaving Natasha and Barton in a sea of screeching Chitauri aliens. Without a word the two assassins high-tailed it into gear, taking the fight straight to the Chitauri. Whilst Natasha kept them busy Barton hurried over to a tipped over bus and helped out the civilians. A young boy, wearing round glasses peered up at him curiously.

“Thanks mister!” he said.

“No worries kiddo,” Barton replied, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Go to your mum; leave the scary aliens for us!”

Once finished he ran back over and fired an arrow over Natasha’s shoulder, killing the alien that had been aiming for her blind spot. They backed the Chitauri up towards the back of the bridge, using the taxi as cover when nesecarry. Hawkeye was in firm place, firing arrow after arrow and hitting his mark each time, making Barton smirk with obvious delight.  Natasha emptied her clip and reloaded, shooting a look up at him with bright, excited eyes.

“Just like Budapest all over again!” she shouted over the noise.

Barton rolled his eyes. “You and I remember Budapest very differently,” he muttered. “I distinctively remember saving your ass.”

“One of these days Barton I swear to God I’m gonna put you on your ass permanently.”

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.LD. Helicarrier . . .  
The Bridge. . ._ **

Fury watched as the battle raged across his screens, a deep line in his forehead and his grip tight on a nearby railing. So far his team seemed to be holding the city but there was no telling just how many of those things were going to grace them with their presence. They were all over the place, working together at the last moment with the exception of the Widow and the Hawk, but then they always worked well together, they just gelled.

He was so absorbed in the footage that when Hill first appeared at his shoulder he missed what she said the first time she spoke that he had to ask her to repeat her words. She huffed impatiently and crossed her arms.

“Sir, one of the pilots brought back a visitor who is demanding to see you,” she said stiffly.

“Who?” he asked.

“They don’t know sir,” Hill shrugged, leading the way out of the bridge. They parted at the threshold and Hill cleared her throat. “Sir, one more thing. Coulson’s body. There are reports that it’s disappeared.”

Fury just nodded and waved her away, moving towards the landing bay with his hands deep in his pockets and lost in thought. He knew what Hill had been saying before she’d even finished speaking. It meant the wrong people had noticed Coulson’s disappearing corpse. He’d have to get onto that as quickly as possible, perhaps he could get them to agree to a training session with the Widow.

He entered the landing bay and was met with the back of a woman, slender and a good head shorter than him. At the sound of his boots approaching she turned to face him, her dark hair swinging across her neck like an inky black curtain and he got his first look at her fine boned features. Fury frowned, he knew who this person was and it didn’t bode well.

“Doctor Ross,” he greeted, offering his hand for her to shake. “What brings you aboard my ship?”

“Don’t play games with me,” Elizabeth Ross ordered, shaking his hand jerkily. “I’m here to see Bruce. Now, if you please.”

“I’m sorry doctor but we are not currently tracking Dr Banner’s whereabouts. There was . . . an incident,” he summarised, piercing her dark eyes with his own.

Ross glared angrily at him. “And I assume that this incident resulted in the large amount of damage you have on this flying death-trap?” she asked heatedly.

“Walk with me, doctor. I think we have a lot to discuss.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is horrendously late!!! Please don't kill me!!!  
> ~But here it is.... Yay? :)  
> As usual reviews are appreciated, thanks to all the kudos' and bookmarks thus far!!

**Parallax**

 

 

**_New York City._ **

**_Seven years previous . ._ **

Central Park had always been one of Barton’s favourite places as a kid. In fact it had been the first place in New York City that he had ever seen. He’d slept on a park bench for his first night and nearly froze to death. These days he could walk about the park with ease and comfort, knowing that he had a bed waiting for him in one of the many apartments that S.H.I.E.L.D had paid for. He found it both ironic and annoying, considering how many people still called the park home.

Barton had been sitting under the same tree for the last four hours, mulling over everything that had happened in the last few months. It was much more comforting to be home on American soil. And yet.  . . He swore internally. He missed Natalia. He missed her so much he was afraid he would cease to care about anyone but her. He found it rather pathetic really. Partly because Natalia hadn’t shown, in fact he was starting to believe that she wouldn’t show.

He’d underestimated her, Barton now realised. He’d believed she wanted a new life, a second chance just like he’d been given. Maybe she wanted freedom instead. He’d been an idiot and fell for her on the surface, maybe he really did have no idea about what being the Black Widow meant. He’d fucked up.

“If you’re thinking you’ve fucked up, I’d say you’re right,” a new voice announced at his left.

Barton looked up, raising his sunglasses to glare at Phil Coulson. “Don’t be an asshole man, it doesn’t become you,” he snapped with a deep sigh. He leaned his head back against the bark of the tree. “I thought . . . I thought she was like me. It’s screwed up and it’s all on me, I know.”

“Fury wants her terminated. What he wants he gets, I shouldn’t have to tell you that,” Coulson said. He leant against the tree, watching a group of children play nearby. “The case has been reassigned. You are not to go anywhere near Natalia Romanova. Or whatever her name is now.”

“Who’s been given the case?”

“Not for you to know, Barton.”

“Come on man, don’t be like that. I just want to know which sorry bastard is gonna lose their life because of her,” Barton groaned, pulling himself to his feet. “I learnt the hard way that underestimating her is a sure fire way to get yourself killed.”

“Is there something we need to know about the Black Widow?” Coulson asked sharply, grabbing his elbow sharply. The grip was tight but didn’t hurt, just irritated the Hawk more than anything. “You don’t want to withhold information, Clint, not with the amount of trouble you’re in right now.”

Barton shook the older agent off with a glare. “Stuff it man, I don’t care. The only thing you need to know about Natalia Romanova is that she doesn’t like being lied to and is a little knife happy. That’s it,” he growled. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go get a drink.”

“It’s midday!” Coulson called after him.

“Five o’clock somewhere!” Barton retorted.

He wandered around the streets of New York for two hours. He’d meant what he’d said about getting a drink but once Barton had started walking he’d found himself unable to stop. Perhaps it was a vague hope that he’d spot Natalia, lost in a strange new city. No such look and so, by two o’clock, Barton found himself seated in his favourite spot at his favourite bar, a tall glass of beer in front of him.

Barton never thought he’d be as mad at Coulson as he was now. His hands were shaking with barely held in rage. Of anyone in S.H.I.E.L.D that would have had his back, he had assumed Coulson would have been top of the list. He had been Barton’s training agent after all, he’d learn a lot from the older man, most of which had saved his life at one point or another over the years. Now though? Barton was getting increasingly jumpy about whether or not Coulson was to even be trusted.

And in their line of work, a jumpy assassin was a dangerous assassin.

~~~

**_NEW YORK CITY . . .  
Ground Zero . . ._ **

Far be it from the master assassin to complain but Clint Barton was royally pissed off. This was so not how he’d imagined fighting aliens would be. Maybe he’d watched one too many movies but he figured once the stupid creatures had seen them easily wiping the floor with their brethren that they’d turn and run with their tails between their legs. Not so much in this situation. The Chitauri just kept coming for them, thick and fast, a stream of enemies without end.

He and Natasha had both had to leap to the other’s rescue at one point or another. They were cats with nine lives that were very rapidly depleting, Barton thought. How much longer did they have to hold out before one of their resident (self-confessed) geniuses figured out how to close that portal, Stark perhaps? Since Banner was nowhere to be found all their hopes lay in Iron Man who was too busy keeping the flying Chitauri away from innocent civilians.

“This would work so much better if Banner was here!” Barton grunted, snapping the neck of a Chitauri.

“Less complaining, more killing!” Natasha shouted back.

“Die you bastard!” he growled, killing another Chitauri with his hip-knife. “And stay dead,” he added as an afterthought, because if movies had taught him _anything_ it was never a good idea to just assume something was dead.

Barton stuck his foot out, tripping over the Chitauri that lunged for him and pounced, twirling an arrow and lodging it in the thing’s throat before he was tackled by another one. He was thrown to ground and struggled against the Chitauri which had somehow managed to lock its rubbery arms around his waist. An instant later the Chitauri had been blown away by a blast from one of its guns, wielded by Natasha.

It seemed they were about to be overwhelmed, the Chitauri had decided that ganging up on them was the best way to take them down. Barton had to give them points for that, it was an intelligent move. They were about to be beaten back when a crackle of lightning split the sky, sending Thor plummeting the earth and the Chitauri fell with an agonised scream. He staggered slightly, but swept through the fallen Chitauri like they were nothing but stones under his boots.

“What’s the story upstairs?” Rogers asked, swinging his shield over one arm.

Thor looked troubled. “The power surrounding the Tesseract is impenetrable, it is a waste of time to try forcing our way through,” he rumbled, a dark frown over his features.

“ _Thor’s right, we have to deal with these assholes,_ ” Stark’s voice broke in.

“How do we do this?” Natasha asked, keeping close to Barton as he wandered around, collecting whatever arrows he could salvage.

“As a team,” Rogers said.

“I have unfinished business with my brother. Loki is mine,” Thor growled.

Barton snorted, swinging several more arrows into his half empty quiver. “Yeah, get in line buddy,” he snapped.

“I wasn’t aware the queue started with you,” Natasha added.

There was a bit of hostile glaring between the three before Rogers had stepped in between them, exuding power and confidence. He gave Barton a pointed look and the marksman sighed, rolling his eyes before touching Natasha’s shoulder to calm her.

“Save it,” Rogers ordered. “Loki is gonna keep this fight focused on us and that’s what we need right now. Without him these things are gonna run wild about the city. We have Stark up top, he’s going to need us to . . .”

Whatever the Captain had been about to say was cut off by a low rumbling noise, almost like the sound of a motorbike roaring around the corner. The group turned and Barton raised his eyebrows, it was a motorbike with one Bruce Banner seated astride it. He parked the bike and climbed off, looking significantly worse for wear. He was covered from head to toe in dirt and grime but he still carried the nervous twitch about him.

“So, this all seems particularly horrible,” Banner said awkwardly.

Barton tossed him a wide grin. “I’ve seen worse,” he said, shrugging easily.

A pained look shot over the doctor’s face and he winced. “Sorry.”

“Honestly, we could use a little worse,” the Hawk replied with another shrug. He ignored the pointed look that Natasha was beaming in his direction and moved forward, extending his hand for Banner to shake. “Good to see you, doc, was hoping you’d turn up.”

“Stark? We got him,” Rogers commented.

“ _Banner?”_

“Just like you said.”

“ _Then tell him to suit up. I’m bringing the party to you_.”

Barton and Banner looked up in shock as Iron Man came streaking around the corner, closely followed the turtle-slug. The beast was screeching at him in rage as it tried desperately to catch the suit between its snapping jaws. Hawkeye widened his eyes and shot a sidelong glance at Banner who hadn’t even reacted, as though he hadn’t just seen a giant _fucking_ slug-turtle.

“Stark, we need to talk about your definition of the word party,” Natasha commented icily.

The slug turtle was barrelling down the street still utterly determined to swallow Stark for lunch. Banner exhaled deeply, almost as though he was already tired of the whole affair and began to walk slowly down the street towards the oncoming beast. Barton opened his mouth to say something to stop him but the Captain beat him to it.

“Dr. Banner?! Now might be a really good time for you to get, you know, angry.”

Banner gave a hollow laugh. “That’s my secret, Captain. I’m always angry.”

Barton could only watch as his new found friend continued walking towards the monster headed his way. There was the familiar angry growling and Banner’s shirt split clean, his skin turning rapidly into the Hulk’s vivid green tones. By his side Natasha stiffened as she watched the Hulk be unleashed for the first time. The Hulk gave an almighty roar and slammed his fist into the slug-turtle’s fleshy skull.

The monster slid to a grinding halt, its body ricocheting upwards and its armour clinked together in rapid succession. Iron Man darted forward and unleashed a barrage of small bombs that pierced the now vulnerable underside. There was a spraying of dark blood, causing Barton to dodge roll behind a car to avoid the sludge. The Hulk roared triumphantly, lumbering back to their group.

Natasha shot a smug smile at Barton but in doing so her gaze got caught on the black hole in the sky. Barton followed her line of sight and felt his jaw drop. If the amount of aliens that they had been fighting before had given him the chills now he had a downright fever.

“Guys,” Natasha called, getting their attention.

“Motherfucker,” Barton added softly. He got an elbow in the ribs for the comment.

Stark landed with a metallic thud and turned his metal face towards Rogers. “Call it out, Cap!”

“Alright, listen up,” Rogers said. “Until we can close that portal up there, we're gonna use containment. Barton, I want you on that roof, eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays. Stark, you got the perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or you turn it to ash.”

Barton nodded and turned to Natasha. “I’ll have your back up there, remember,” he whispered. He straightened to face Stark. “Wanna give me a lift?”

“Right,” the billionaire said. “Better clench up, Legolas.”

Barton just nodded once and felt himself being yanked into the air as Stark grabbed him by the collar and took off into the sky. The wind rushed through his hair and pulled at his cheeks, leaving him breathless and winded. Stark dumped him on the roof unceremoniously, shooting off into the sky once more. Barton climbed up onto the ledge and went to work.

It was easy enough to focus whilst the Hulk went and smashed the city to pieces. Frankly Barton was glad that Banner had decided to show up, it was nice to have a bit more muscle on their side. Thor was too distracted by his brother to be much of a help, he had seen the blood trickling down the demi-god’s abdomen. Loki had obviously gotten one up over his brother.

“ _Barton, you better have my back,_ ” Natasha’s voice tumbled over the microphone.

“I said so, didn’t I?” he replied, shooting down a Chitauri ship with an exploding arrow. “It will be just like Budapest all over again.”

“ _When this is all over, you have to tell us what happened in Budapest!”_ Stark’s voice interrupted.

“Shut up Stark!” Natasha and Barton said in unison.

~~~

**_S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier . . .  
The Bridge . . ._ **

Maria Hill always felt uncomfortable whenever the World Council decided to call. Even more so now that Nick Fury was glaring at them. It was a pretty decent glare on the Fury-Scale, not as deadly as the one he used on perpetrators but a few steps above the one he liked to use to tell Stark to take a long walk off a short cliff. This glare almost beat out the one that he had pinned Sitwell with when the agent had blown up a laboratory two years ago.  

“ _Director Fury, the Council has made a decision,_ ” the Head Councilman said.

“I recognise that the Council has made a decision but given that it is a stupid-ass decision I’ve elected to ignore it!” Fury snarled, his ire increasing with each passing moment. “We are talking about the island of Manhattan councilman. Until I am absolutely certain my team can’t hold it I will _not_ authorise a nuclear strike against a civilian population!”

With that he shut them down with a simple flick of his wrist. He caught her eye over the screens and as usual Hill felt the familiar burning rising up the back of her neck, warming her skin. She always felt as though he was x-raying her with that intensity. It was though he knew about the World Council and her, or at least suspected. It sucked. They’d been interviewing her for years now, waiting for a moment that Fury might slip.

At the start Hill had been excited at the prospect, she had been certain that they were grooming her for leadership. Now? She just felt like one fiddle in a large string band.

~~~

**_NEW YORK CITY . . .  
Ground Zero . . ._ **

Barton had been keeping a relatively close eye on Natasha, a force of habit more than necessity. It was interesting working with the rest of the ‘Avengers’. Thor and Hulk, the obvious muscle, worked well in tandem as they smashed through buildings and tore the skin off the slug-turtles with little more effort than it took a standard person to open an envelope. Stark, cocky and full of himself, roamed the city as a metallic bird of prey and firing off at the Chitauri as often as he could. Rogers and Natasha were working together surprisingly well, much to Barton’s annoyance.

They timed their attacks in perfect synchronisation with each other, almost feeding off each other’s inner thoughts. Almost the same as himself and Natasha when they had first starting fighting alongside one another. Barton didn’t like it but what could he do? If they two of them had a bit of chemistry on the battlefield there was nothing he could do about it.

“ _Still awake up there Robin Hood?_ ” Stark’s voice echoed over the line.

“Of course. You might wanna be careful though, you’ve got a lot of strays sniffing your tail,” Barton retorted, killing two more Chitauri ships that passed by.

“ _Yeah just trying to keep ‘em off the streets,_ ” was the grunted reply.

“Well they can’t bank worth a damn so try find a tight corner,” Barton suggested lazily, firing an arrow behind him with ease and smirking when he heard the screams that signified he’d hit his mark.

“ _I will roger that._ ”

Barton shook his head and focused his gaze back on the roaming Chitauri, keeping one eye firmly on Natasha’s fighting. She was holding her own, if the stolen Chitauri weapon was anything to judge by. Barton smirked as she swung it with a deft ease that showed off her battle expertise.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured to himself.

He quickly got lost in the mess of fighting, a series of planned moves that were as familiar to him as his own skin. Draw, aim and fire. Draw, aim and fire. Dodge, parry, fire. Adrenalin was thudding through his veins and his heart was hammering in his ears but damn, he never felt more alive than he did on the battle field. Granted, fighting aliens was not exactly his preferred option but he figured it was best to take what he could get.

Barton was so busy fighting that he wasn’t paying complete attention to Natasha and so when she called him over the comm he was more than a little surprised at what had transpired in the midst of her fight.

“ _Hawkeye!_ ” she shouted.

He turned his gaze on her and found her to be, of all places, astride a Chitauri rider as she raced through the skyline. She was being hotly followed by Loki as he fired energy beams at her. Barton’s blood chilled so fast he thought he’d swallowed an ice cube.

“Nat, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

“ _A little help?_ ” she replied shrilly, faking left in an attempt to throw Loki off her trail.

He squared his shoulders and drew an arrow back on the string, following Loki carefully. He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes; this was for Natasha he realised. Not only to get Loki off her tail but for brainwashing her, for tormenting her and for putting more red in her ledger.

“I got ‘im,” he told her. “His ass is mine.”

He fired sharply, listening as the arrow danced through the air and hurtled towards Loki. At the last second the dark haired villain reached out and snatched the weapon from the air, turning to throw a smug smile in Barton’s direction. The archer simply gave off a one finger salute and then the arrow exploded, sending Loki hurtling towards the ground.

“Strike one for Team Barton,” Barton chuckled gleefully. “He’s down but not out, be careful Nat. I ain’t scraping your blood off the sidewalk okay?”

“ _You’re such a drama queen Clint,_ ” Natasha said. “ _Thanks though.”_

And so the battle raged on around them, the screams of civilians and the curses of Stark and Natasha sang about his ears. Barton could do little else but concentrate on killing one alien scum after the other, swift and silently just as he’d been trained. This was the most intense battle he’d been in for a long time; it was almost therapeutic in an odd way. A strange tingle passed its way over his spine and Barton turned to look upwards. Several thousand Chitauri riders were staring him down.

 _Time to get the fuck off this roof,_ Barton thought, reaching for another arrow.

However when he went to grab another arrow he found it empty. Panic seeped into his veins but he took a deep breath and dived towards an arrow he’d buried in a nearby dead Chitauri and threw it into the quiver, ready to re-equip the weapon. He ran to the edge of the building and jumped, firing the arrow at the ledge as he fell. Even as the Chitauri pursued him the arrow he’d lodged in the wall as a grappling hook.

Barton swung himself down and crashed through a window, shattering the glass and tumbling into a heap on the floor. His back burst into pain, glass shards had buried themselves deep into the skin and he swore loudly, huddling over into himself. He lay there for a moment, writhing in the pain before he took a deep, shuddering breath. He couldn’t stay here; he promised Natasha he’d have her back. This was _not_ having her back.

“Get up,” he groaned to himself. “Get up you slack bastard. _Get up!_ ”

It was excruciating, there was so many shards buried in his skin that Barton was sure he’d become a human pin cushion. He managed to push himself to his feet and he hobbled towards the lift. It was a relief to let it carry him down to the floor and he leaned his head back against the elevator wall, breathing deeply to fight back the pain in his back. When he stepped out onto the street he started running for where he’d last seen Rogers fighting, collecting arrows on the way.

It was easy enough to focus through the pain, he’d done it before. Just as he reached Rogers and Thor he watched as one Chitauri lunged for Thor’s unprotected back and he launched an arrow, killing the Chitauri instantly and giving the blonde a chance to save Rogers’ from another Chitauri.

“Are you ready for another round?” Thor asked.

Rogers laughed hoarsely, clutching at his abused ribs from where he’d been hit. “Why? You getting sleepy?” he challenged.

Thor boomed his deep laugh, turning to greet Barton. “And you, my archer friend, I must thank you for having my back. Well timed attack!” he said.

“Any time,” Barton waved him away. He gritted his teeth. “These things just keep coming don’t they?”

“ _I can close it,_ ” Natasha’s voice cried suddenly. Barton could have cheered, she was safe. “ _I can close the portal, does anyone copy?_ ”

“Do it! Now!” Rogers shouted.

“ _No,_ ” it was Stark this time and his voice was raw, as though he was under great stress. “ _Don’t roll your eyes Capsicle I know these things are giving us a run but I’ve got a missile headed straight for the city! I know just where to put it too!_ ”

Barton’s mouth went dry. A nuclear missile? It could only have come from one source, the Helicarrier. What the hell was Fury playing at, launching a nuke against a civilian city? He must be out of his mind. He could feel Natasha’s ire over the wire but they could say nothing as Stark shot by, pushing the missile up towards the ever growing black hole. Then he had disappeared from view.

Seconds ticked by, agonisingly slow. He could hear Natasha mumbling pleas in Russian and the buzzing in his head was getting worse as pain clouded his thoughts. Stark wasn’t reappearing. Slowly, Rogers turned to share a look with him and Thor and they all realised what had to happen.

“Close it,” Rogers told Natasha.

As the portal began to seal over Barton’s well trained eyes caught sight of something falling through the air. Something familiar and dressed in red and gold armour. Iron Man. Tony Stark.

“Son of a gun,” the Captain gasped.

“Fuck me,” Barton breathed.

Thor’s eyebrows drew together. “He’s not slowing down!” he said loudly, starting to swing his hammer around in a circle.

Before the demi-god could take flight there was a familiar roar and the Hulk came crashing out of nowhere to catch the falling Stark. They fell to earth with an earth-shaking thud and Barton led the run over to where the unconscious Stark lay. Barton moved straight to the Hulk’s side, unsurprised at the latent fear that resided behind its eyes. Banner was still there and in some form of moderate control. Stark wasn’t moving, even when Thor ripped the head plate away.

“Don’t do this Stark,” Barton breathed. “Natasha will kill me and then you, again!”

The Hulk clearly agreed with his sentiments because he let out a loud bellow. It must have achieved something because Stark did a double start, waking violently with a gasp. The Hulk beat his chest and howled at the cloudy sky, rejoicing in the dying Chitauri around them.

“Please tell me nobody kissed me?!” Stark was demanding.

“We won,” was all Rogers would say.

Stark began babbling about swcharma immediately, waving his arms around and babbling breathlessly. Barton had to hand it to him, the guy was persistent with his words that was for sure. Thor draped an arm around Barton’s shoulders and smiled sadly.

“We aren’t finished yet,” he said.

Stark paused. “But then swcharma after.”

 

 

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! Second to last chapter! Oh wow!   
> Time flies huh?   
> What do you guys think will happen in the final chapter? Should I post a sequel to this??  
> Reviews, kudos etc. are much loved!

**Parallax**

 

 

_**New York City.** _

_**Six years previous . .** _

_Thud._

Barton sat straight up on the couch, startled into action. The glass that was lax in his hand fell to the floor of his apartment, sending glass shattering across the floor. There was a firearm under a couch cushion and he grabbed it, tip-toeing over the broken glass in his bare feet. Intruders in this part of town had always been common but Barton had his place booby trapped from the minute he moved in. He hadn’t had a problem in three years, until tonight. Three o’clock in the morning and an intruder – just when he’d drifted off to sleep too.

He stepped into the kitchen quietly; the gun raised straight out in front of him, reached over and flicked the light switch on. There, perched on the kitchen counter with her shapely legs crossed and swigging lazily from a beer that she’d nicked from the fridge, was Natalia Romanova. She looked into his face, taking in his widened eyes and furrowed brow, and shrugged.

“What the fuck Natalia?” he hissed. “You gave me a heart attack!”

“Yeah right,” she snorted. “Working as an assassin for S.H.I.E.L.D I doubt much scares you these days, especially women sneaking into your apartment.”

Barton lowered the gun with a sigh and moved over to the kitchen cupboard, opening it and drawing out the half empty bottle of bourbon that he’d hidden there last night, as well as a new glass. He poured himself a healthy serving and moved away from her, leaning against the wall opposite her and staring down into the amber liquid. He could feel Natalia’s gaze on him and he finally looked up at her.

“This isn’t Central Park,” Barton murmured conversationally, swigging from his glass. “And it sure as hell wasn’t three days. It’s been seven months. So forgive my rudeness but what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Barton . . .”

“You know I like your voice better when you say my name with less hatred.”

“Are you always such a baby or are you intentionally trying to piss me off?” she asked sharply, uncrossing her legs and dropping to the floor. She sculled the beer in one, lobbing the bottle into a nearby trash can. “I came here to . . .”

Whatever she had been about to say stopped however when she paused in her steps. A strange look was on her face and then she swayed on her feet. Barton damn near threw the glass onto the counter in his haste to catch Natalia before she hit the floor, drawing her shaking body against his own.

“Jesus shitting Christ,” he swore. “Natalia?”

“’M fine,” she mumbled.

“You just collapsed into my arms. Okay is not the first word I would use!” Barton yelped. He carried her over to the table, setting her down gently on the top and taking her face in his hands so he could inspect her. “Are you injured? Where does it hurt?”

“Stop shouting, you’re making my ears ring,” Natalia said tiredly, patting his hands away. She looked exhausted and irritable, her eyes slow and unfocused. “Some asshole that was following me from Russia decided to smack me across the back of the head with a rifle. Needless to say I repaid him in kind.”

Barton tilted her head forward gently and ran his fingers through her tangled red hair, seeking the evidence to her story. It was easy enough to find the lump at the lower base of her skull, round and hard, dirty with dried blood. The cut was still damp so it could have only been a few days old. He chewed on the inside of his cheek in concern; she probably had a concussion for the last few days and, in her attempt to be a bloody hero, was now coming down off whatever high she had used to get herself by.

“Christ, Natalia,” Barton breathed. “You’re lucky you aren’t in a damn coma. You should have gone to a hospital!”

“Couldn’t,” she murmured against his neck. She was fading into sleep quickly. “Had to get here. You have first aid. Just stitch it and I’ll sleep.”

“You’re an idiot,” he commented, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her towards the bathroom.

She sits on the closed toilet lid whilst he works, using the bourbon as an anaesthetic of sorts. It’s all kinds of fucked up, him stitching a gash in her head and her drinking alcohol like its water but to Barton, it feels oddly familiar. He knows he’s missed her, not her words even just her presence in fact. He uses a sewing needle to close the wound and his fingers are slippery with her blood, the gore is familiar to him.

Natalia doesn’t give away any indication of having felt pain. She just looks woozy, the combined effects of alcohol and a concussion and he just knows it’s a terrible idea to allow her to drink but fuck it. She wouldn’t listen to him anyway. Instead of taking the bottle from her Barton just sighs, swigs from the bottle himself and leads her to his room. He gives her an old shirt to wear, tucks her into his bed and goes back downstairs to clean up the glass in the living room.

He elects to sleep on the couch for two reasons. One he’s quite certain that Natalia might just kill him if he even tried joining her, be it now or in the morning when she was clear headed. Two, well he’s not sure he wants to. It took her seven months to come to him. He doesn’t know how she found him or why she’s even here. He just doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

So Barton settles for punching the couch cushions into submission and drifting into an uneasy slumber, his thoughts hazy with bourbon and Natalia’s perfume wafting about his nose.

~~~

_**S.H.I.E.L.D Base. . .  
New York City . . .** _

“Clint?”

Barton looked up from where he was packing away his bow and arrow. Only a few hours had passed since the Battle of New York, as one news anchor had so creatively dubbed it, and he was desperate to get back to his home and check he still had a place to live. His injuries could wait, he decided, they weren’t exactly life threatening, just irritating.

Now, Natasha stood in the doorway of the weapons lockup, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her face. She had a small white bandage on her forehead but was otherwise unscathed from the battle – something Barton was eternally grateful for. Rogers had three broken ribs and Stark had to stay in hospital overnight. Thor seemed uncaring of his injuries and had demanded to be taken to where Jane Foster was at the double. Banner, who had been giving rapid healing abilities courtesy of the Other Guy, had disappeared into a hotel room as soon as he was able to.

“Yeah?”

“You’re injured,” she said simply. “You’ve been holding yourself funny ever since we got picked up from the battlefield.”

“It’s just a few scratches from where I took a tumble through a window,” Barton said, shrugging. He tried not to wince as one of the shards embedded in his back snagged. “Nothing major to worry about. I’m okay.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him in a look that clearly read ‘bullshit’. She moved over to him and patted him on the lower back forcefully, tearing a growl of discomfort to come tearing out of him. She laughed.

“And I suppose that didn’t hurt,” she said acidly, grabbing his hand. “Come on. We’ll find a spare medical bay and get you cleaned up. God knows what would have happened if I hadn’t double checked. You’re a walking contradiction you know that?”

“How do you figure that?”

“If someone else hides their injuries it’s an act of stupidity but if you do it it’s an act of great bravery? Please. Just let me fix you up,” Natasha said, her tone brooking no argument.

Once they arrived at the medical level Natasha found an unused room, pushed him in and slid the door closed behind her, locking it with a flick of her small wrist. She shucked her gloves and moved to wash her hands. When she realised Barton was just standing still, hands in his pockets, she glared at him.

“Shirt off. Now.”

“If you wanted me naked you should have just asked nicely,” he retorted, the easy flirtatious tone back in full force. He removed the shirt with ease but bringing his arms back down was a little more painful than he had originally anticipated. “Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Sit up on the bed so I can see . . . _svyatoye der'mo_ Clint! You’re back is covered in glass!” Natasha said loudly. Once he was seated on the bed she moved behind him, running gentle fingers over each shard in his skin. “Some of these are going to scar! You _upryamyy ublyudok!_ ”

Barton just exhaled deeply. “Scars don’t particularly bother me. I’m not vain enough to give two shits, Nat. You’ve seen the ones I already have. Besides there’s no woman I have to pretty myself for anyway,” he said nonchalantly. “Just get the glass out and clean the wounds, that’s all I need.”

He got a smack upside the ear for the comment but otherwise no verbal response came from her mouth. Natasha set herself to work, carefully removing each piece of glass from his back with surgical precision and washing each cut. After the first few Barton was thankful that pain subsided to a dull ache he could ignore and closed his eyes, just content to let her work. He had meant what he said. There was enough scars across his back, he’d given up caring years ago.

It took a good few hours but eventually Natasha straightened and washed her hands once more, declaring her work finished. She moved in front of him, offering him a glass of water and some painkillers. Barton took the water and ignored the tablets, downing the water in seconds and tossing the plastic cup into the bin.

“Next time, how about we don’t use the window as a landing platform, hm?” Natasha mused softly, drying her hands on a towel. “I’m serious Clint. Some of those shards went in really deep; you could have had a serious problem. I’d get a doctor to take a look if I were you.”

“I’m sure Banner won’t mind having a sticky beak,” Barton sighed, rolling out his shoulders and reaching for his shirt. “I ain’t seeing no S.H.I.E.L.D quack, they give me the creeps. Too sterile.”

“And you call me stubborn.”

He laughed. “Sweetheart, it takes one stubborn person to know another,” he chuckled. “Come on. I wanna get home and see just how wrecked my place is. I can drop you off on the way if you’d like.”

Natasha stepped backwards so he could slip off the bed. Her eyes travelled over his bare chest and Barton ignored the swoop of desire that rushed into his groin. She had made her position on their relationship quite clear, and whilst he was certain that she cared for him more than she let on, there was no point pushing it. Her walls would come down faster than the elevator at Stark Tower.

It wasn’t until he was fully dressed again that she spoke, shuffling her feet awkwardly. He thought it odd, Natasha Romanoff had always been sure of herself; no foot shuffling was ever needed with her.

“Clint. I . . .” she trailed off, playing absentmindedly with her fingers.

“What?”

It seemed like she couldn’t quite formulate the words that she wanted so instead she settled for what was easiest. She stepped forward and kissed him gently, her hands pressed lightly against his chest. Barton’s eyes slid shut almost immediately and he took control, sliding one arm around her waist and drawing her closer. The moment was over as quickly as it had begun when Natasha pulled back to stare up at him, glassy eyed.

“I should apologise,” she said quietly, not taking her eyes off his. “I know I can’t give you anything remotely close to what you want, what you deserve. But I don’t think I can stand by and watch you with someone else, or God forbid, watch you die. I want to apologise but I can’t Clint. I can’t apologise for trying to keep you safe.”

“’Tasha,” he breathed, pressing their foreheads together. “You should know by now that I will take whatever I can get. You’ve known for ages that I only ever wanted you.”

“No. I won’t commit myself to you in any way until I’m certain that I can give you everything. I trust you and I care about you. I don’t . . . I don’t trust myself. I’ve got too much red in my ledger to even consider it.”

Barton smiled gently at her, brushing her fringe back out of her eyes. He kissed her forehead as gently as he could, even with the raging desire in his abdomen. Natasha just looked at him, confusion and guilt awash in her eyes and her lips drawn together in a tight line.

“Seven years ago I met the woman who would change my life,” Barton said gruffly. “I met you. We’ve had our rough patches and we’ve had some pretty awesome moments. Listen to me very carefully now. I will wait for you. Even if it takes twenty years, although I really hope it doesn’t, I will wait. You may not think you deserve me but I know you do. You’ve earned it and you’ve proved it. Now you just have to prove it to yourself.”

“You’re a fucking sap, Clint,” Natasha said after a moment.

“And you’re a cynical pain in my ass, so I guess we’re even,” he said cheerfully, stepping out of her embrace and taking her by the hand. “Come on, let’s blow this joint. I’ve got a couple of cold beers that have our names on it.”

Natasha smiled at him and, fuck it hurt like a bitch, but somehow Barton had to believe that maybe things might be alright from now on. Loki had been subdued and now he had a clear understanding on where Natasha’s head was at. It might be wishful thinking but Barton would take it.

~~~

_**Central Park . . .  
New York City . . .** _

The weather was beautiful the day the Avengers descended on Central Park. Fury had managed to secure off a small paved section to keep the public at bay in order for Thor to safely transfer Loki home to Asgard. Barton and Natasha had rocked up last, each carrying a styrofoam cup of coffee in their hands and hovering a slight distance away from the rest of the group. Barton supposed it was because they, unlike Rogers and Stark, were still only human. Years of training and conditioning got them to this point, so naturally it was important to be wary around people with raw fighting talent.

They watched as Banner dug into the boot of Stark’s car and, using a large pair of wire tongs, placed the glowing Tesseract in the container that Thor held out for him. Once the cube had been sealed away the blonde demi god turned to give them a warm smile, farewelling them in his flowery language before offering the device to Loki. The younger man glowered at him and shot a look in Barton and Natasha’s direction.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him and leaned over to Barton to whisper in his ear. “You were right,” she hummed. “Nothing like Budapest.”

Barton just smiled widely at Loki, waggling his fingers at him in a wave. Then in a flash of blue light and a strange whistling noise the two Asgardians disappeared from view, leaving the Avengers standing there as the wind played about them. Barton dragged a duffel bag out of his car and handed it to Banner, smiling warmly at his friend.

“Told you so,” he said. “Told you we’d kick his ass.”

Banner smiled, a genuine one that showed off his teeth. “You did,” he replied, offering his hand out to shake. When he let go he shot a meaningful glance at Barton, jerking his head towards Natasha. “Don’t leave it too late!” he called, moving over to where Stark was waiting.

“What is he talking about?” Natasha asked him, once they were back in the car. She was in the passenger seat, her small feet propped up on the dash and her hair loose about her ears. “Banner, I mean. You two seem to be close.”

“Hm? Oh let’s just say Dr Banner and I have a mutual understanding. I got to see the Hulk in close quarters,” Barton explained with a shrug, leaning over to pump the radio. It was playing Metallica, his favourite. “It was fucking awesome!”

“Only you would call it that,” she laughed, tapping her fingers against her thighs in time to the beat. There was a pause. “Did you get your next job?” she asked.

“Not yet. I think you and I have earned a much needed break though,” he mused. “I hear Rio’s got a huge fight club contest starting in the next few months. Reckon you’re up for it?”

“I thought you’d never ask!”

 

 

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is everyone. The finale, the end chapter and the closing of this story. I have really enjoyed writing this and I hope you have enjoyed reading it! Would you like a sequel? Let me know...good points, bad points share them all!   
> Thanks for sticking around for the ride!

**Parallax**

 

 

_**New York City.** _

_**Six years previous . .** _

It was a lucky thing that Barton was good at his job. It never boded well for anyone’s future when Phil Coulson was giving you death stares. Ever since he and Natalia had strolled casually into his office that morning the older agent hadn’t stopped glaring. It was as though he was waiting for an excuse to take Barton aside and give him the ‘what-for’. But Natalia had been pretty much glued to his side for the last few hours, for which Barton was eternally grateful. He wasn’t in the mood to have a screaming match with Coulson, friend or not.

Natalia seemed unaware, or unconcerned, about the glare that was radiating from Coulson. She just sat by Barton’s elbow, her legs crossed and her attention focused firmly on her fingernails. Every so often she would start singing an old Russian song under her breath and wink conspiratorially at Barton. He would just roll his eyes at her and give her a light push to break her gaze.

Barton had woken up on the couch that morning to the smell of sizzling bacon and followed his nose into the kitchen. Natalia was standing in his kitchen wearing only his shirt and her underwear, cooking bacon and drinking coffee. At first he had to rub at his eyes and pinch his skin to wake himself up because he _had_ to be dreaming! There was no way this was happening in his kitchen!

“Stop ogling my ass Agent Barton or I’ll kill you with this coffee cup,” she said, without a backward glance.

“I can’t help appreciating the view,” Barton commented airily, crossing his arms across his naked chest. “Come on Natalia, what’s all this about?” he asked, his tone turning serious as he moved across to her side. He snatched a piece of bacon off the pan. “You turn up at an ungodly hour of the morning, with a concussion no less, and you’re now cooking me breakfast in your knickers. This is either a prank or a really awesome story to tell the blokes down the pub.”

She smacked his hand with the spatula and then looked up at him, a considering look on her face. “I told you. Some bastard decided to chase me all the way across Russia because of some stupid game of poker. I was a bit distracted and let him get the best of me. So I shot his balls off,” she said conversationally.

A shiver passed over Barton’s skin. He chose to ignore the comment about shooting balls off and cleared his throat. “So what had you so distracted?” he asked tightly.

She hadn’t told him until they were finally seated at the table, steaming plates and mugs in front of them. At first Natalia just sat and ate, chewing slowly and carefully as though she was having trouble picking her words. Eventually she downed her coffee in one long swig, exhaled deeply and then ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

“Your offer of a second chance had me distracted,” Natalia explained. “I never had any choice in my life. Even working for Bajusz was part of my assignment from the KGB. When I met you though I finally did what I wanted and I didn’t care, at least at first. It was supposed to be a thrill ride, a lark. Well, you know how well that turned out.”

Barton didn’t speak and had gestured for her to continue. There would be time for his questions later.

“It took me a long time to realise that you had the right idea. America has always been known as the land of the free or whatever shit they’re broadcasting these days,” she continued. “I’ve got red in my ledger, Barton. I’d like a chance to wipe it out, once and for all.”

And so that’s how they had ended up here in Coulson’s office, waiting for Fury to arrive via helicopter. Natalia had promised him that she would play nice around the director and leave all the talking to Barton as well as promising him some more details of her life pre-Budapest. He had been ecstatic; he didn’t want to push her too far. It was a miracle that she had even turned up. Now he just had to think of a plan that meant he could keep his job and get her one.

Easy. Right?

Coulson stood up, buttoning up his jacket and moving to the door. It swung open and Nick Fury swept into the office, bringing with him a tidal wave of tension and a filthy glare that would have made a lesser man piss his pants. Thankfully, Barton had always considered himself to be above lesser men so he simply got up, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and faced Fury head on.

“Morning sir,” he said cheerfully. “How was your trip to Prague?”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fire your sorry ass right here and now?” Fury asked menacingly, stalking towards Barton and burying a hand into the fabric of his shirt. “You had one job, Agent Barton. Only one, very simple job and you fucked up. The proof is sitting right here in this room.”

“Hello, proof here has a name!” Natalia piped up angrily, her eyes narrowing at Fury.

He ignored her. “Do you have any idea what the Council is going to say about this? Or what they’ll do to you?” Fury asked him. “They won’t fire you, you thick headed bastard. They’ll just kill her and then you. How the fuck did you think this was going to go over?”

“Director, I’m going to have to ask that you unhand me or you’ll be one-handed as well as having one eye,” Barton said simply. “I came here with a proposition for you. If you like though I can leave right now and take it with me. Trust me, the last thing you’ll see is my gorgeous ass moving out of here with your fist shoved up your . . .”

“Barton!” Coulson growled, stepping between the two men. “Enough.”

Fury released Barton and moved around the desk, seating himself in Coulson’s chair and leaned over the table, eyeing Natalia warily. “So,” he said. “You’re the Black Widow. You’re shorter than I expected.”

Natalia shrugged. “I’ve been called many things in my life Director Fury. Black Widow is just the tip of the iceberg. I have a question for you though. Do you always manhandle your subordinates or is Barton here a special case?”

 _We’re fucked,_ Barton thought with a groan and buried his head in his hands. He should have known Natalia’s sharp tongue would get the better of her. It was bad enough that he gave Fury lip without her input as well.

“I manhandle my subordinates when they try to fuck up their career through idiotic behaviour. Unfortunately Agent Barton here has a track record of doing just that. Although this is the first time he has failed a mission. You must be one hell of a woman to make Hawkeye forget his duties.”

“If you’re planning to kill me I’d suggest you rethink it,” Natalia warned. “I’m also choosing to ignore the comment you made about me using sex to corrupt Barton because between you and me it shouldn’t be my sexual life you worry about, rather his.”

“Hello, still here!” Barton whined.

“You. Shut the hell up,” Fury growled, pointing a finger at him. The finger swivelled and came to focus on Natalia. “You. Watch your tongue. Why are you here?”

“I’m here because Barton offered me a second chance. If that offer is off the table then I’m going to walk out of here, no one is going to stop me and I go on my merry little way. I’ve given up a lot to come here for this so you may want to consider that.”

“Confident little spider.”

“Considering she used to work for KGB I’d say she has every right to be,” Barton interrupted, forestalling any argument that Natalia had prepared. “Listen Fury, I know you’re pissed as hell with me and I know why you wanted her dead, believe me I’ve been on the receiving end of her skillset more times than I care to admit. But if we take her on our side, KGB and other intelligence agencies might sit up and take notice. Or fuck off if the case may be, hopefully. Natalia’s skills are valuable to us. I’ll take responsibility for her if I have to; train her up the way S.H.I.E.L.D wants. I guarantee you; she’ll make it worth your while.”

“Hell no,” Fury said simply. “I cannot allow that kind of thinking to even _start_ in this organisation. Once KGB always KGB, as the saying goes. You can’t guarantee a damn thing.”

“Four-nine-one-five. Six-two-seven-three,” Natalia said suddenly, her gaze focused on the ceiling, looking thoroughly bored with the whole situation. “Eight-one-seven-two. One-five-six-four.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Case numbers,” she clarified, meeting his eye. “Those four numbers correspond with case numbers that were my next hits. Four-nine-one-five is the case number for one Anthony Stark, son of Howard Stark and weapons magnet. Six-two-seven-three? That one is the hit for Doctor Hank Pym, the noted scientist. Eight-one-seven-two is for Doctor Bruce Banner, gamma radiation genius.”

Coulson had been scribbling on a notebook and looked up sharply. “And the last one?” he asked warily.

“File number one-five-six-four. Hit? Nicholas J Fury, head of S.H.I.E.L.D. Priority code red.”

Barton felt as though someone had smacked him clean across the jaw. She had a contract on Fury’s head. And he’d brought her straight to him. Cold settled over the room and Barton scrabbled for his gun, never once taking his eyes off Natalia’s face. She turned to stare at him impassively, her eyes blank. Then she laughed, low and rich and Barton blinked at her stupidly.

“I’m not here to kill you Director Fury,” Natalia said. “In fact I burned the file on your hit. It was the only one I could salvage after I ran from the KGB. They sent someone after me and he managed to take the other three files from me. I can tell you which assassins are likely to take each job and how to take them down.”

“In return for what? A job?” Fury asked suspiciously.

“Frankly I think you want me on your side. As Barton correctly summarised my skills are _very_ valuable and you’d be wise to accept my job application. I will give you an operative you can trust to the end, a reliable agent. I can’t guarantee whether I’ll always be around but I will always be loyal. Not you but to him.”

It took Barton a second to realise that she was referring to him and his jaw dropped. “Nat . . .” he breathed.

“Agent Barton saved my life, twice. I owe him a debt. As long as he is loyal to you I will be to. No ifs, ands, whys or buts about it. That is my offer,” Natalia said seriously, crossing her arms. “Take it or leave it.”

A minute slid by and Barton couldn’t take his eyes off Natalia. The glorious, beautiful, intelligent woman in front of him had stumped yet again. Was he destined to always be one step behind her? He’d have to up his game if he wanted to even think about keeping up with her. There was a creaking noise and the Hawk looked up, seeing Fury lean back in the chair and stroke his chin thoughtfully.

“Coulson,” he said. “Get the paperwork sorted. It seems our web just got a little stronger. Add the Black Widow to our employee files and for God’s sake update the damn firewall on that thing!”

Barton grinned. Natalia smirked and got to her feet, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. “Thank you sir but Agent Natasha Romanoff will do just fine,” she said.

~~~

_**S.H.I.E.L.D Base . . .  
Three years previous . . .** _

Barton raked his eyes up and down the line of new recruits. One in particular caught his gaze. His sharp eyes taking in every small detail he could about the newbie. Strong foundation, sharp shoulders and an attitude. The Hawk smiled and nodded to himself. The kid looked nervous but beyond that there was a steel of determination in those dark eyes. He’d soon get rid of the nerves once they’d gone a few rounds in the ring. Barton turned to Coulson and pointed to the recruit he wanted.

“That one.”

Coulson sighed. “Why?”

“Because he looks like good fun for me and Nat to mess with,” Barton replied honestly, a shit eating grin on his face. The recruit paled at his words. “Come on Coulson, the rest of them wouldn’t come close to even keeping in time with me and the Widow.”

There was a pause as Coulson considered his words carefully but then he grimaced, leaning over his clipboard and scribbling a note on its surface. He beckoned to the recruit Barton had picked out. The young man came hurrying over, an excited shine taking over his dark eyes.

“Agent Grant Ward. His training scores are all in the file,” Coulson said, pushing the file into Barton’s chest. “Mr Ward, this is Agent Clint Barton, a.k.a Hawkeye. He’s your new training agent. Now scram, Barton, I’ve got work to do.”

“Aw, you know you love me Coulson.”

Nevertheless Barton figured it was best to take the hint lying under Coulson’s glare and grabbed Ward by the shoulder, damn near running for the exit. He led the way into the bowels of the base, his gaze focused on reading the file in his hands. Ward was good, very good. His scores in hand to hand combat, espionage and strategy were very impressive, almost as good as Natasha’s had been when she was officially graded.

Ward was silent whilst they walked but as they stepped into Barton’s domain, a long shooting range with several targets and large punching bags dotting the area he spotted someone who made his jaw drop. Natasha was hanging upside down from a rope that hung from the roof, doing crunches. She was clothed in a tight sports bra-top and figure hugging leggings. A protective flame ignited within Barton and he stepped in between Ward’s vision, whistling to get her attention.

“Nat!” he called. “Someone I want you to meet.”

“That’s the Black Widow,” Agent Ward breathed. “Ex-KGB and assassin extraordinaire. She can kill a man with a paperclip.”

“Actually I can kill a man with a bull-clip ,” Natasha corrected mildly as she joined them. “A paperclip is a little too fiddley even for my standards. You must be Barton’s new pup. Natasha Romanoff.”

“Grant Ward.”

“He looks a bit weak around the ankles, Clint, are you sure this is the one we want?”

Barton sighed. “Ward is impressive; his scores are almost as good as yours. Take a look,” he commented, shoving the file in her direction. He caught Ward staring at Natasha’s chest and snapped his fingers in the younger agent’s face. “Although I may be forced to reconsider my choice. Eyes on her face, kid.”

“Sorry, sir. If I may, sir, I’m not entirely sure I’ve heard your name before,” Ward said, shuffling on his feet. “Everyone knows of Coulson, Agent Romanoff here, even Hill. But I’ve never heard the name Barton.”

“You had to ask didn’t you?” Natasha sighed mournfully, eyes still on the file and a line of concentration stretching across her pale skin.

Barton drew himself up to his full height and looked Ward dead in the eye. “The reason you don’t know my name _rookie_ is because I am good at my job. I am a spy. In this business knowing someone’s name gets one or both parties killed. In Romanoff’s case knowing her name gets you killed,” he explained hotly. “I am known only as Hawkeye. People know my alias but they don’t know my name, or my face. Because of that I am still useful to S.H.I.E.L.D. Any questions?”

Ward is staring at him with something akin to frank adulation. Barton suddenly felt very uncomfortable and he nudged Natasha with his elbow to get her attention. She batted him away as though he were a fly and walked away, nose still buried in Ward’s file.

“I had no idea that you were the Hawk!” Ward gushed. “I am so sorry, Agent Barton. I didn’t mean any disrespect or anything!”

“Forget it kid,” he sighed, waving a lazy hand. “Now look. There’s not much that Nat and I can teach you combat wise. What we’re going to be showing you is job smarts. How to live the life so to speak. You better listen to everything we say clearly, because half the time it’s going to save your life either immediately or in the long run.”

“Yes sir. Sir? Is it true you and Agent Romanoff took down three KGB assassins in three months?”

Barton smiled, showing his teeth. “Maybe.”

~~~

_**Paris, FRANCE . . .  
Eight months previous . . .** _

He was covered in blood and none of it is, for that Barton was extraordinarily thankful. It was days like this where he remembered exactly how much he hated France. The French pricks liked their blood; in fact they liked to kill in ways that guaranteed the most amount of gore possible. Fucking ridiculous. Barton had been standing under the shower spray for the last half hour and there were still red stains on his hands, face and neck. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. He stepped out of the shower with a sigh, giving up the task as a worthless effort and padded through to the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Mercenaries, he decided, could be so rude. He confronted them in London and so they’d ran, cowards. All the way to Paris where one of them had decided to introduce knife play. Barton was exhausted and thoroughly ready to get back home to the States. He reached into the minibar and stole a bottle of red wine, yanking the cork out with his teeth and forgoing the glass.

The phone rang, the smooth tones of _Black Magic Woman_ dancing through the hotel room. Barton looked up from the bottle of wine and grabbed the mobile, pressing it between his shoulder and ear. He leaned against the window sill and then answered the call, yawning widely.

“Barton.”

“ _I hear Paris is the city of love,_ ” Romanoff greeted lazily. They never bothered with proper greetings, it was just enough to hear the other’s voice. “ _You should take the chance to check out the Louvre whilst you’re there, some very beautiful pieces of art._ ”

“Art and me have never got along,” Barton told her. “Too airy fairy for my tastes. I’d rather be in Rome, much better food there.”

“ _You are so uncultured Clint._ ”

“Good to talk to you to Nat,” he laughed, swigging from his bottle of red. It had a rich flavour but it was a tad dry for his tastes. “How’s Alaska treating you?”

“ _Cold. Not as cold as Russia in the winter but I got to say, Alaska has given it its best shot,_ ” Romanoff mused. “ _But I didn’t call to talk about Alaska and HYDRA agents. I dealt with them three days ago, it’s almost laughable how bad some of their agents suck these days.”_

“Now Natasha, we mustn’t judge,” Barton teased. “They can’t help their skill, or lack thereof.”

“ _I’m being recalled back to base,_ ” she said sharply. “ _Fury wants me on the Selvig project. He was going to ask you to take the assignment but I figured it was better if I did, you’d get bored in the first ten minutes and slack off._ ”

Barton narrowed his eyes, the bottle of wine going limp in his grip. The Selvig project. Very interesting, as far as he knew Fury didn’t want to start testing for a while and only when tests began would the scientist need a bodyguard. The timetable must have been stepped up.

“The Selvig project huh? Well you can keep the assignment as far as I’m concerned. That sort of stuff just doesn’t interest me. Although,” he paused. “Which assignment do I have to do in return?”

“ _Track the next batch of HYDRA cells. I hear Canada is beautiful at this time of year._ ”

**THE END.**

 


End file.
